
Oass_ 

Book _. .... .Ha 






<•»/•>»»»«'<•> WW.M./V/S**. 






$H Ulilliam C. ferltnu 



Being Narratives of Duck-Hunting Experiences; Habits of Our Wild- 
Fowl and Methods of Hunting Them; Facts Concerning Their 
Migration, Breeding Grounds, Food, Etc. Also a Few 
Short Articles Concerning Some Other of Our 
Game Birds, and Several Interesting 
Anecdotes of the Hunting Dog. 




CHICAGO 

1916 



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This book is respectfully dedicated to 
my life-long friends, 

^r. IKlIiaro %. Pnntn 

suit 
Mr. Remits ^S*. ;S'<tttbr f 

of Chicago, Illinois 



MAY 19 1919 








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After the Day's Sport is Over." Canvasbaeks, Long Lake, Illinois. 



The Art of Duck Shooting — Ernest McGaffey 1 

The Ganvasback — William C. Hazelton 8 

Duck Shooting as a Pastime — William ('. Hazelton 10 

My F irst Duck — Boss Kiner 11 

The Calls of Birds — William C. Hazelton 13 

An Eighteen-Mile Row on the Missouri, etc. — William C. Hazelton 1-1 

The Green-Wing Teal— William C. Hazelton 16 

A Duck Shoot on the North Platte River— J. F. Parks 17 

The Art of Calling Ducks— B. P. Holland 23 

The White-Winged Scoter — William C. Hazelton 26 

The Pleasures of Wild-Fowling— Dr. E. W. Weis 27 

The Plumage of Wild-Fowl— William C. Hazelton 30 

Duck Shooting on the New England Sea Coast — Herbert E. Job 31 

The Pintail— William C. Hazelton 32 

A Duck Hunt on the Kankakee — William C. Hazelton 33 

The Woodcock — William C. Hazelton 38 

Reminiscences of the Chesapeake Bay Dog — George L. Hopper 39 

The Nesting Season of Wild Ducks — Herbert E. Job 43 

Battery Shooting on the Great South Bay — Charles Bradford 45 

A Morning's Sport at Clayton Lake, Minnesota — //. A. Stalin 46 

The Tree Ducks of South America, Mexico and Texas — W. C. Hazelton ... . 4S 

The Tale of a Swan— William C. Hazelton 4i) 

The Chesapeake Bay Dog — J. F. Parks 52 

Senachwine Lake in the Last Days of the Old Muzzleloader — Van Dale.... 57 

The Old-Time Market Hunter — William C. Hazelton 58 

The Blue-Wing Teal — William C. Hazelton 00 

A Lucky Half-Hour With the Blue-Wings— William ('. Hazelton 61 

Passing of the Passenger Pigeon — William ('. Hazelton 64 

The Use of Decoys — William C. Hazelton 65 

On the Grand Old Illinois — WUliam C. Hazelton 67 

Old Times on the Green River Marshes — Boss Kiner 69 

The Mallard— William C. Hazelton 72 

Three Empty Shells — Three Mallard Ducks — William C. Hazelton 73 

Mallard Shooting in the Overflowed Timber — William C. Hazelton 75 

The Prairie Chicken, or Pinnated Grouse — William C. Hazelton 76 

A Shot at a Prairie Chicken — Boss Kiner 77 

A Duck Hunt in Louisiana — H. M. Widdowson 7S 



The Wood Duck— William C. Hazelton 84 

Ou the Habits of Various Varieties of Water -Fowl — William C. Hazelton . . 85 

One of America's Most Famous Duck Hunters — William C. Hazelton 87 

A Stormy Crossing on the Illinois — William C. Hazelton 89 

The Gadwall, or Gray Duck— William C. Hazelton 01 

Memories of Other Days — P. C. Darby 92 

The Redhead— William C. Hazelton 94 

The Wild Goose Who Lost His Bearings — William C. Hazelton 93 

Camping Along the Illinois in "the Good Old Days'' — T. S. Van Dyke.... 97 

The Sora Rail, or Ortolan — William ('. Hazelton 98 

On the Migration of Wild-Fowl — William C. Hazelton 99 

The Market Hunters of the Sunken Lands — J. B. Thompson 102 

' ' Jack ' '—William C. Hazelton 110 

The United States Biological Survey — William C. Hazelton 1 11 

Queer Experience of a Duck Hunter, etc. — William C. Hazellon 113 

Shooting the Bluebill Over Decoys — William C. Hazellon 115 

Hunting Bluebills in New England Waters — H. K. Job 11 6 

Some American Ornithologists — William C. Hazelton 117 

The Wilson Snipe, or Jack Snipe — William C. Hazelton 118 

A Remarkable Duck Hunt on Little River. Missouri — J. B. Thompson 119 

The Sand Hill Crane — Hamilton M. Laing 1?2 

Propagation of Wild-Fowl by the I T . S. Government — W. ('. llaztlton 124 

The Old Squaw, or Long-Tailed Duck — William C. Hazelton 127 

Hunting the Old Squaw on the Eastern Sea Coast — Herbert K. Job 128 

Favorite Foods of the Wild Duck— Clyde B. Terrell 129 

The Quail — William C. Hazelton 134 

Observations and Conclusions on Duckology — Dr. Ferdinand Brown 135 

The New England Ruffed Grouse— C. B. Whit ford 138 

Wild-Fowl in a Storm on the Massachusetts Sea Coast — Herbert K. Job 139 

Mallard Shooting at Coke 's Bayou — William C. Eaeelton 140 

The Plumage of Wild-Fowl — William C. Hazelton 141 

The Goldeneye, or Whistler — William C. Hazelton 112 

With the Canvasbacks at An Sable Lake— William C. Hazelton 14M 

Crane Lake as a Game Refuge — William C. Easelton 145 

The Black Duck— William C. Hazelton 14( » 

Wild-Fowl at Reelfoot Lake, Tennessee — B. L. Mason 147 

The Philosophy of Duck Hunting — Edmund J. Sawyer 148 



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11 





Sunrise at Senachwine Lake, Illinois, on the Illinois Biver. 




"THE OLD RELIABLE CHESAPEAKE. 
' ' Water King. 
Courtesy of L. K. Mason, Hastings, Iowa. 



The Art of Duck Shooting. 



The wild rice dips, the wild bends, 

And rustles in the breeze, 
As down the marsh the west wind sends, 

Its message from the trees. 



BY EENEST M C GAFFEY. 



Duck shooting is a science ; likewise an art. The seasoned 
duck shooter smiles at the quail hunter, the snipe shooter, 
and the man who eases around in a "buck-board" after 
prairie chickens. They are mostly "parlor" shooters in his 
opinion. "Whisper," now — men take their lives in their 
hands quite a bit who follow the sport of duck shooting. 
The marshes and lakes take something of a toll of human 
life in that respect, and more than a few good staunch fel- 
lows have gone under in the "sink-holes," perished from 
exposure, or drowned in sight of shore while following 
their favorite hobby. You need to be some resemblance to 
a man to go after ducks year in and year out. 

Spring shooting has mostly been cut out; and a good 
thing, too. Some lively sessions I have seen occasionally, 
in the Spring time, when the ice came down on the 
"blinds." Narrow squeaks at times, and rowing aimlessly 
in sudden blizzards, stiff ringers grabbing at ice-mailed 
decoys, and squalls that made gathering dead birds no 
child's play. Well, I've weathered it, but I just make bold 
to say in passing that you need to be a good swimmer, a 
good man with a pair of oars, and as tough as a leather 
hinge to stand the racket. 



2 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Fall shooting isn't quite as dangerous, but you have to 
watch the weather conditions, and mind your eye generally. 
Duck shooting has so many angles, that it has both the safe 
and easy degrees as well as the other ones, and by and 
large it is the most fascinating sport of all with the shot- 
gun. 

Shooting over decoys, "pass" shooting, "jumping" ducks, 
"tolling" ducks, and shooting from a battery, make up the 
principal ways of getting the birds. 

Decoy shooting can be had with either wooden or canvas 
decoys, or live wild decoys. These latter are mostly used 
in mallard shooting. Wooden decoys are mainly used in 
shooting bluebills, canvasback and redheads, although many 
mallards and teal are shot over wooden decoys. Bluebills 
and ringbills decoy easiest. Mallards come in to live wild 
mallard decoys where they would not look at the wooden 
counterfeits. Pintails decoy to mixed pintail and mallard 
decoys, and teal will come to all teal, or a sprinkling of 
teal and mallard. Goldeneye, ruddies, butterball, widgeon, 
wood ducks, spoonbills and other "trash" ducks I have 
killed intermittently over various decoys. Canvasbacks re- 
quire canvasback decoys, and redheads decoy best to redhead 
decoys, although some canvasbacks will not hurt in the flock 
of decoys. 

"Pass" shooting only requires good markmanship and 
a close-shooting, hard-hitting gun. A reliable retriever is 
also a necessity in this branch of the sport. It is simply 
finding out where the birds come and go from one body of 
water to another and stationing yourself on dry ground 
and shooting them on the flight. Winged birds are readily 
gathered by a trained dog, and the sport is mainly de- 
pendent on accurate shooting. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 6 

Jumping ducks may be done by going in on the compara- 
tively shallow overflowed river bottoms or along the edges 
of lakes and sloughs, and shooting the birds as they jump. 
Or it may be practiced from a boat, with one man to paddle 
at the stern of the skiff or duck-boat and a man in the bow 
to do the shooting. Or a man may paddle about by himself 
and drop the paddle as the ducks climb up. 

Tolling ducks is to hide in the cover along shore and 
draw the birds within gunshot by having a dog trained to 
the job lure them in by jumping about on the shore. I 
never had any experience at this style of duck shooting. 

Battery shooting, or "sink-box" shooting, is by having 
a box weighted and sunk almost to the water's edge and 
surrounded by a big flock of decoys. As the birds come 
in the shooter rises from his cramped position in the box 
and fires. It is an effective way of getting ducks when 
they won't come in to the shore "blinds," but keep to the 
middle of the large lakes. 

In all grades and kinds of duck shooting the knowledge 
necessary of the birds' habits, the effect of the weather on 
their flight, where they are feeding, the manner of building 
a "blind" and setting out decoys, the best spot for a 
"blind," the shifting of a "blind" when the wind shifts, 
the way to sit and keep still in a "blind," the rule in 
shooting from "blinds," and hundreds of other lesser and 
greater vital requirements make up what might be called 
the scientific duck shooter's arbitrary book of rules. 

Almost any man can break a few hundred blue rocks, 
buy a good dog and do something at quail without further 
delay, especially if he goes out with some one who under- 
stands the way to get "Bob White." But each and every 
duck shooter must learn the inner peculiarities of the duck- 



4 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

shooting game for himself. And each year that he goes 
out he will pick up some new wrinkles from some grizzly 
old "pusher,' or from some one of the canny boys that lie 
around the lakes. 

You may shoot fifty pintail off of a high, brush-built 
"blind" from a comfortable platform one day, and the next 
day, with a still, bright day succeeding a dark and blowy 
yesterday, be compelled to take a narrow duck-boat and go 
out in open water and build a grass "blind" almost level 
with your boat to get any shooting. Ducks are very queer 
"critters," and I have seen them do unaccountable things. 

I have been at the lakes when some seasoned old pirate 
would sit grumblingly around the fire in early Spring, only 
deserting his warm place to go outside and look at the sky, 
or spit on his finger and hold it ur» to see which way the 
wind was blowing. Meanwhile the other not so hardened 
shooters would be working their heads off to bring in a 
dozen ducks a day. And then some morning old Groucher 
would be missing and would come at night loaded to the 
stumbling point with ducks. He had been studying the 
weather, the flight, the "signs," and when he got ready had 
poled and cut his way in to where the birds were feeding 
and had made a "killing." 

That, of course, was in the old days. Days when there 
was no "limit," either to the birds, or to the number you 
could shoot. 

Canvasback shooting over decoys is the acme of the 
sport. Shooting over live wild mallard decoys runs it a 
close second. Teal shooting is good sport, and bluebill 
shooting over decoys, with occasional ringbills, widgeon, 
pintail, teal or even mallards dropping in at times is ex- 




Teal Ducks, Thompson 's Lake, Illinois, Ernest MeGaffey 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

citing work. There is no branch of the sport which does 
not have its particular charm. When the Kankakee marshes 
were in their prime a man could get all the ducks he could 
pack in by knocking over a few birds and setting them up 
for decoys. Now the cornfields stretch where the marshes 
rippled, and ducks, except the barn-yard variety, are indeed 
a curiosity. 

For the deep-water ducks, canvasbacks, redheads, blue- 
bills, etc., lake shooting is more generally followed, while 
timber* shooting along the rivers in the overflowed river 
bottoms is where the best mallard, pintail and teal shooting 
is had. Some lakes give good teal shooting, but they like 
the timber pretty well. 

All sorts of rules have been given, some of them based 
on methods of apparently mathematical exactness, as to 
how to hold your gun to shoot ducks. The fact is, the 
shots vary as the flight of the birds does. To get the 
center of the charge where the duck will be as his line of 
flight crosses the flight of the shot is the trick, and it re- 
quires years of practice, and a natural adaptability to 
master the secret. I have known men who were good shots 
at everything but ducks. And I have never known a high- 
class duck-shot who could not quickly qualify as a shot at 
any kind of flying game. The reason for this is that duck 
shooting gives all the angles, towering, right and left quar- 
terers, straight-aways, right and left quartering towerers, 
incomers, straight overhead shots, incoming left and right 
quartering shots, dropping shots, straight-up rising shots, 
twisters of every description, etc. 

Ten or twenty years' practice at these angles either de- 
velopes the crack duck-shot or it develops the duck-shot who 
finds his best lines and sticks as much as possible to them. 



6 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

As the shooting is practically open, and as birds often come 
in and go out from a "blind" with a variety of movement, 
a man can pick his moment to shoot. 

For instance, if he is weak on incomers, he can wait nntil 
a bird swings. If he is good at straight-aways he can pick 
birds in the flock as they are going away. The high-class 
shot takes them any way. But even a medium good shot 
can make a very respectable showing by choosing his birds 

and his time to shoot. 

« 

The building of a "blind" and the setting out of decoys 
is the last word in the art of duck shooting. It is so 
wonderfully well done in the case of the expert, and so 
bungingly executed in the hands of the tyro, that there is 
no possible comparison between the two. Color and size, 
fidelity to the surrounding cover, and easiness of coming 
in and going out are vital features of a well-builded 
"blind." Accuracy as to the general habits of the birds 
is to be followed in the setting out of the decoys, some 
species being prone to closer formation than others, and 
more regular alignment. 

Duck calls are very successfully used in mallard shooting, 
and when wooden decoys are used they are often exceed- 
ingly handy. In shooting over live wild mallard decoys, 
the decoys will do the "calling," as they join in the sport 
with a most uncanny delight. It is rather a shock for the 
novice to see a drake wild decoy raising himself in the 
water to call down some unsuspecting comrade from the 
far North, and the newcomers rarely fail to set their wings 
and come in fraternizingly to the wild decoys. 

' ' An ' if that ain 't cheatin ' why I 'd like to know. ' ' 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. i 

Splendid mallard shooting is sometimes had in the wet 
cornfields, and in the stubbles, particularly in the corn- 
fields. With live decoys and a shock of corn to hide in, a 
man can get the cream of the shooting at times. 

East, West, North and South the tendency is to restrict 
the limit. I think this is all right up to a certain point. 
But fix a season limit, say seventy-five birds, and let a 
man kill his limit in a day if he can, and if he wants to. 
Men who have followed the sport know how many days 
are drawn blank in the shooting, and if a day does come 
when the conditions are all right it is more or less of a 
joke to shoot ten birds a day. Make the limit even fifty 
birds, but don't put the lid on at ten birds a day. A man 
might get that many ducks at one shot, teal particularly. 

Anyway, what is that long, trailing ribbon over the trees, 
dipping, winding and curling over the river bottom? Mal- 
lards, by all that's lucky. The northern flight is on. Get 
out the 12-gauge, sort over the shells, break it gently to 
the Missus and receive her (call it benediction) and set the 
alarm clock for 4 a. m. The old instincts are alive again, 
the old blood is jumping, the duck-shooter's primal savage 
characteristics are beginning to assert themselves. Yes, 
there's nothing like it, and I have "followed the gun" for 
forty-three years, come next Micklemas, or any other Mas 
that happens to be roosting about the premises. 

Forty-three years I 've followed the gun, 
Warp and woof by the woodland spun ; 
Lakes where the bluebills curve and wheel, 
Arrowy flights of the green-wing teal, 
Pasture lands where the jacksnipe hide, 
Grassy stretch of the prairies wide. 
Counting the seasons, one by one; 
Forty-three years I 've followed the gun. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Canvasback. 



"King of the Game Birds of the Continent." 



The royal bird! What a keen, racy-looking fellow he is! 
Every inch of him a thoroughbred! 

The canvasback is undoubtedly the most wary of all our 
wild-fowl and his keenness of vision is only equalled by the 
goldeneye. His flesh depends for its flavor on the food that 
he eats, and since for so many years he fed in the localities 
where the so-called wild celery abounded, which is really a 
water grass, his reputation was gained as a fine-flavored 
bird. There is a doubt, however, whether he is any more of 
a delicacy than other members of the duck family who 
have opportunities to feed on wild celery. 

The Chesapeake Bay in the East; Currituck, Pamlico and 
Albemarle Sounds in the South; and Lakes Koshkonong, 
Butte des Morts, Poygan and Winneconne in Wisconsin; 
and Fox and Long Lakes in Illinois, are noted resorts of 
the canvasback. 

I take great pleasure in watching the canvasbacks at Lin- 
coln Park, Chicago. There are many varieties of live wild 
ducks there, but the canvasback plainly shows he is not an 
ordinary bird. 

While shooting one morning on Swan Lake, near Henry, 
Illinois, many years ago, I was stationed about a quarter of 
a mile from Abe Kleinman, the veteran duck hunter of the 
Calumet marshes, and I could see most of his shooting, and 
he killed three dozen canvasbacks before 11 o'clock. His 



S 2 




DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 



9 



decoys were set near shore, where the birds had been feed- 
ing. During the balance of the time that I was shooting at 
Swan Lake the canvasbacks came no more to this particular 
spot to feed. Abe had "burnt them out." I killed thirty 
redheads that same morning. 

At this time the shooting at Swan Lake and Senachwine 
in the overflowed bottom and timber lands resembled a 
battle. The shooting was continuous and ducks were in 
sight in some direction nearly all the time. The flooded 
territory, including the main channel of the river, was 
from 2 to 4 miles wide. The river banks were overflowed 
all along the river except at a few high spots. 

I always use canvasback decoys, with a few bluebills, for 
deep-water ducks, and have never owned a redhead decoy. 
Many times have I picked out a few canvasbacks from a 
large flock of bluebills when they would come into the de- 
coys. I doubt whether the canvasbacks would have come 
in by themselves, but they came in with the bluebills. 

The canvasback is always uneasy and restless on rainy 
days, constantly flying about, and it is on these days that 
the best shooting is to be obtained. 

The main body of birds will be always found well away 
from shore on some large lake or river. At intervals dur- 
ing the day, small parties of ducks, as if unable to with- 
stand the temptation any longer, will leave the main body 
of birds and fly towards the shallower water near shore 
to feed. Then if the hunter has his decoys set in' the 
right spot, he will have some fine sport. 

When canvasbacks are disturbed much they become very 
cautious, remaining out in open water during the day and 
only approaching the shore at night to feed. 



10 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Duck Shooting As a Pastime. 



To follow the way the wild duck takes, 
To the twilight of the grassy lakes, 
To the glory of the Yukon hills. 

■ — A Day on the Yukon. 



What sport can be compared to duck shooting for real 
enjoyment with a gun? 

Hunting quail with a good dog is enjoyable, of course, 
and also prairie chickens and ruffed grouse furnish excel- 
lent sport, but for real pleasure what can equal hunting the 
various varieties of wild-fowl? 

One of the greatest fascinations of wild-fowl shooting is 
its constantly changing conditions of weather and many dif- 
ferent species of wild ducks almost daily met with. Today 
you may be shooting over decoys, tomorrow on a duck-pass 
or flyway, and the day following "jumping" ducks from 
the borders of a marsh or river. 

Duck shooting is also a greater test of your skill with 
the gun, for you get shots at many different angles and at 
varying speeds. The wild duck is a marvelously swift flier. 

And on the splendid fall days all Nature is at her best, 
and could anything be more invigorating to your health 
and tending more toward longevity than to cast aside your 
cares and go duck hunting? 

I have memories of many glorious days spent on the Des 
Plaines, Kankakee, Illinois, Platte and Missouri Rivers and 
the lakes of Wisconsin. The Illinois River is my favorite 
hunting ground, however. Coke's Bayou, Au Sable Island, 
Groose Island, Twin Islands, BardwelPs Island, Sugar Island, 
Au Sable Lake, Senachwine Lake, Swan Lake, and many 
adjacent localities were places of keen sport to me. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 11 

My First Duck. 



The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way. — Bryant. 



BY ROSS KINEK. 



Do you remember the very first duck you ever brought to 
bag! You don't? Has it been so very long ago, and you 
have killed so many since, that you have forgotten quite? 
Well, I do. Many and man}^ the time had the single-barrel 
muzzle-loader roared, spitting fleecy smoke and shredded 
newspaper in the wake of a small charge of 5's, trying to 
overtake a bunch of scurrying, cloud-scraping pintail, or 
neck-craning, towering mallard, but the duck was never 
where the shot was, and the shot was never where the duck 
was, and beside, like the flea, a boy is never still, you know, 
and after I stood and crouched in one location as long as I 
could stand it, I would move, then, and not till then, would 
the ducks come and wheel and circle over the very spot that 
I had just deserted. 

It was March, a wind-blown day with winter's chill still 
gripping. The muzzle-loader stood at home behind the 
kitchen door, and in my hands was a Remington 12-gauge 
hammer gun; not the model with the low circular hammers, 
but an earlier one, black barrels, with high hammers that 
stood upright like rabbit's ears. My stepfather had bor- 
rowed the gun for me from a neighbor. 

All that day I had chased here and there, up and down 
the river flats, in the vast Jefferd's and Pritchard pastures, 
whanging at pintails far too high, cutting futile holes in 
the air yards behind the rocking bluebills. Along toward 



12 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

the late afternoon I started homeward, sometimes in the 
rutty, chuck-holed country road, at times angling across the 
bare March fields. 

Passing one farmhouse perched upon the brow of a barren 
hill of sand, just at the supper hour, a little lad came out 
and started toward the pole and slough-hay roofed barn, 
singing: "Come to the house, Papa, and get a piece of 
Yankee bread and butter." Hungry? So hungry that I 
thought I would never reach home. At the eastern line of 
Fritzche's pasture grew a long high row of. willows. I ap- 
proached them with caution ; on the other side was an over- 
flowed ditch, and once upon a time in the Springs that had 
gone before, I had bellied up to that fence corner, sneaked 
up on what looked to me like a million ducks, poked the old 
single-barrel through the fence, and, "She snapped!" 

I approached the willows Indian-like. There were no 
ducks in the ditch; so, Remington across my knees, I sat 
down behind the fence to rest awhile. There came a sud- 
den "We-ee! We-ee!" of slanting wings, and a pair of 
weary pintail come to rest not 30 yards away from me. 
"Buck fever?" Yes, I had it, but in the end that pair of 
dancing blackish barrels came for one brief instance square 
between those weary ducks. "Whang!" Picture to your- 
self a breathless boy racing around the end of that willow 
fence, gaining the other side just as the hen struggled into 
the air. "Whang!" Breathless or no it was a clean kill, 
and then, regardless of chill wind and icy water, heedless 
of short-legged boots, and the danger of pneumonia, that 
boy waded waist deep and hand retrieved his game. 

That never-to-be-forgotten night he swaggered into Gres- 
ser's store and flopping down that luckless pair of pintail, 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING, SKETCHES. 13 

received in coin of the U. S. A. the princely sum of two 
bits. Why didn't he eat them? Why? Because only by 
swaggering into the store and selling his game there before 
the assembled clientele, could he at one bound attain the 

prestige that he craved. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

The Calls of Birds. 



Oft as the woodlark piped her farewell song, 
With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun. 

— William Cullen Bryant. 



How strange are the calls and songs of many of the wild 
birds! Having studied the various varieties of wild-fowl 
considerable, I have been interested in noting their cries, 
whether of fear or joy, or signals of sociability to their 
fellows. They have, indeed, a language, and I have heard 
them call out in the middle of the night whose hearts were 
bursting for very happiness and joy of living. The red- 
head duck, at certain times, when in large bodies on a lake 
or large river, and impatient to go near shore and feed, call 
to each other exactly as a cat does to her kittens. But the 
strangest call I have ever heard is that of the prairie pigeon 
or plover. This is the papabotte of the Creoles (literally 
"little butter-bird"), and who is at home on the prairies 
of Louisiana, although it nests in the Northern States. The 
bird takes flight with quivering wings, as if loath to go, 
and utters a long-drawn, tremulous, and wonderfully sweet 
and plaintive cry that almost seems to long for other lands. 
The poetic and mystic cry ever lingers in the memory. 

Then there is the bittern, the great blue heron, various 
species of rails, and many other water birds. 



14 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

An Eighteen-Mile Row On the Missouri River and a Few 

Mallards. 



I see their dark battalions on winnowing pinions urge. — McLellan. 



Every seasoned duck hunter can remember some particu- 
lar day's sport in which he had some peculiar experience 
out of the ordinary, such as finding ducks in unexpected 
places, etc. He may not have made a large bag, but some- 
thing unusual happening causes him to recollect it. 

During several years' residence at Omaha, Nebraska, I did 
considerable hunting on the Missouri River from that point, 
and also made several trips to the Platte River. 

The Missouri is a difficult river to navigate at many 
points. Above and below Omaha we were forced to use 
two pairs of oars on a ducking boat, and then there were 
places where it was barely possible to breast the current. 
The best shooting grounds near Omaha were down the 
river and we would make a trip of from 15 to 20 miles in 
a day and return, having to start on our return trip back 
up the river in the middle of the afternoon or we would 
not be able to reach the city that same day. 

One day in November I started to row down the Missouri, 
not knowing just where I was going in particular, as ducks 
did not seem to be very numerous. I had about twenty 
decoys in my boat, intending to set them out and try my 
luck if I could find any spot that the ducks seemed to favor. 

Rowing along quietly near shore with the gun within 
reach as was my custom, suddenly a pair of mallards flew 
out from the trees bordering the river bank Ah! a chance 
for a double, I thought, as I seized the gun. At the crack 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 15 

of the first barrel one dropped; holding above the second 
one's head, down he came at the discharge of the second 
barrel. 

Resuming my oars, I had traveled a mile or so further 
when a lone mallard set out from shore in great haste to 
get out of clanger. A charge of No. 5's well placed stopped 
his career then and there. 

I journeyed a couple of miles further and had not seen 
another duck and no prospects of using my decoys as- there 
were no ducks in flight. 

Suddenly there was a great fluttering of wings from a 
bunch of willow trees just in front of my boat and a pair of 
mallards were trying their best to break all speed records 
for ducks in trying to get out of range. Two well-directed 
shots ended their earthly plans right there and they were in 
duck heaven with the others, if there is such a place. 

I now had five mallards and loitered around an hour or 
so and ate the lunch I had brought with me, making some 
coffee over a fire on the river bank. 

As there did not seem to be any ducks moving and very 
few in the country I finally started home, returning on the 
opposite side of the river on my way un stream. 

On my return trip (I had been about nine miles down the 
Missouri) I was fortunate enough to get shots at another 
pair of mallards and they met the same fate as their prede- 
cessors. That made me seven birds. 

Finally, and lastly, a solitary mallard was bagged just 
as the others had been, as he flushed from shore at the 
approach of my boat. 

Now, eight mallards is not a large bag, but each one had 
been killed singly and I had not fired any other shots except 
at these eight ducks and had scored the eight straight. 



16 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Green- Wing Teal. 



During many different conversations with various cluck 
hunters during the past few years I have discovered that 
the little green-wing teal is a very popular bird with the 
majority of sportsmen. Also it is the general opinion that 
both the green-wing and blue-wing are decreasing in num- 
bers more rapidly than some other varieties of our wild 
ducks. Just why this should be so is somewhat hard to 
understand. Undoubtedly, however, their readiness to de- 
coy has much to do with their lessening numbers. 

The green-wing teal is a common migrant, and is found 
over the whole of North America, from the far North to the 
extreme South, being quite plentiful at Currituck Sound. 

They are a very hardy little bird, and can withstand ex- 
tremely cold weather, unlike their cousin, the blue-wing. 

The green-wing teal will decoy readily to any variety of 
decoys, possibly to mallard decoys the best. 

They have a very swift flight but are much more erratic 
than the blue-wing and quicker to see danger, and if you 
fire a shot at a flock flying by, every duck in the bunch will 
shoot up into the air in a different direction. 

They are a handsome little bird, especially in their Spring 
plumage, and their cheerful whistle at that season of the 
year is very pleasant to the ear. 

Late in the Fall the green-wing teal sometimes congregate 
or merge several smaller flocks into one large flock and feed 
in some shallow waters at the edge of a lake or sand bars 
on a river, and I have sometimes known a large number to 
be killed at a discharge into such a flock. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 17 

A Duck Shoot on the North Platte River. 



We catch the voice of rivers and the sigh of trees. — Rhymes of Stream and 

Forest. 



BY J. F. PARKS. 



The leaves have turned from emerald to old gold, crimson 
and brown. The air is becoming more and more crisp and 
invigorating each morning as the nature lover goes forth to 
tackle the perplexing problem of his daily business grind. 
Old Jack Frost is now working over-time in penciling the 
landscape with his withering breath, thus mutely, but force- 
fully, reminding one that the Fall of the year is again with 
us and that grim old Winter is getting ready to put Nature 
to sleep for another brief resting spell. 

At such times, the thoughts of the duck hunter naturally 
turn to his annual outing, in quest of the web-footed deni- 
zens of the marsh and river. 

The trusty old hammerless is taken out of the gun case, 
thoroughly oiled and cleaned, the waist waders are inspected 
.for possible leaks, a new supply of shells are purchased, the 
gun closet ransacked for hunting togs and even the faithful 
old Chesapeake, who has been lying around listlessly all 
Summer dreaming of former hunting experiences, now seems 
to manifest an unnatural restlessness, as though he, too, was 
beginning to feel the near approach of another outing. 

Then one day a telegram comes, reading something like 
this: "There is a small flight of northern ducks in at pres- 
ent and I think the big flight will be on in a few days. 



18 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Hold yourself in readiness to come on receipt of my wire." 
(Signed): "Harry." 

The looked-for message arrives in a few days and it 
reads: "Northern flight is in. Come and bring a friend." 

My shooting chum, Fred, is telephoned, then all is bustle 
and excitement to catch the 5 : 55 p. m. train for the little 
town of Bayard, Nebraska. 

Arriving at our destination, Harry meets us with the 
customary hearty, Western welcome. He had his complete 
camping outfit loaded on a lumber wagon and we are off at 
once for the old North Platte River, distant three miles to 
the southwest. 

We establish our camp on a little island in the Platte in 
a fine grove of trees, protected from the wind, and soon 
have everything in ship shape for our headquarters for the 
next week or ten days. 

Aside from being ideal from the standpoint of comfort, 
our camp site is surrounded on all sides by points of much 
historical interest. About a mile up stream is the old 
"Sheedy" or "Seven Up" ranch and branding corrals, and 
just opposite is "Mike Maxie" Island containing 200 acres 
of land, while just above this is the old Deadwood and 
Sidney stage trail. Looking westward, one can see the old 
grass-grown trail of the California gold-seekers of "'49," 
and the trail of the Mormons, on the south side of the 
river, where one can almost imagine now, he can still see 
the long, phantom-like trains of caravans, drawn by gaunt, 
lumbering oxen, with men, women and children alongside, 
enveloped in a cloud of suffocating dust, bent on reaching 
their new homes in the far-away valley of the Great Salt 
Lake. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 19 

Today, however, there remains but little physical evi- 
dence of this great event in the early history of our coun- 
try, save for the mounds of earth and stone, in rude, wooden 
inclosures, that dot the trail here and there, which serve to 
mark the last resting place of the sturdy pioneers who fell 
by the wayside, and never reached their new Eldorado. 
And last, but not by any means least, is the great North 
Platte River, which some wit has characterized as a stream 
"Two miles wide and two inches deep," but the writer 
would rather say in regard to this, after having to wade 
this stream a number of times, that it is two hours wide 
and two miles deep, but for all that it is a grand old stream 
and will always be, thanks to the new Migratory Bird Law, 
the duck hunter's Mecca when the northern flight is on in 
the Fall. 

A good night's rest prepares us for an early morning 
start and we proceed to occupy our blinds, just as "Old 
Sol" begins to paint the eastern horizon with the first 
flushes of the coming day. 

Harry had already constructed his blind on a sand bar 
in the middle of the river. The writer is located on a little 
grass and brush-covered island about 300 yards to the east 
of Harry's blind, and Fred locates his blind on an island 
about the same distance east of my blind. 

In going out to the blinds, flock after flock of ducks raise 
from the water but no attention is paid to them. We are 
soon comfortably settled with our Chesapeakes quivering 
with excitement at our feet, the ducks have settled and a 
stillness prevails almost oppressive in its intensity, broken 
only now and then by the wooden decoys knocking together 
in the swirl of the rapid current, or by the splash of a musk- 
rat as it dives off an old sodden log, or perhaps the faint 



20 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

rustle of a cunning old mink returning to its den after a 
night of slaughter among its legitimate prey, when of a 
sudden the stillness is broken by a sharp whip-like report 
from Fred's blind that echoes and re-echoes on the distant 
hills. 

Bang, bang, comes from each blind all along the line and 
the air is rilled with pinions. Ducks to the right of us, ducks 
to the left of us, quacked and thundered. Mallards, pintail, 
widgeon, teal, canvasbacks, redheads, bluebills, spoonbills 
and what not, pass and repass for about an hour, then all is 
quiet again along the Platte, and the same stillness prevails. 

"Hello, John," from Harry's blind, "what luck?" 

"Pretty fair," said I, "what did you do!" 

"I got a few," said Harry. 

"Say, did you see the retrieve that Rex made?" 

"No." 

"Well, you should have seen it. It certainly was great. 
You see that island over there to your left?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, he followed a mallard across that island, then 
across the swift-running channel on the other side, and got 
his. bird out on the bank of the river about 200 yards from 
the shore. He was gone at least ten minutes. Some re- 
trieve, even for a Chesapeake; don't you think so?" 

"Surely some retrieve, Harry, even for a Chesapeake," 
I assented. 

"Down Otter Boy," to my dog, "here comes a pair of 
mallards." 

Bang, bang, and both of the old greenheads crumple in 
midair and come tumbling to a sand bar to my right. 



?> g F 

to • 



H 






■HI 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 21 

"There, that's a good fellow; go fetch the other one." 
And as the grand dog handed me the last bird he seemed to 
say by the expression in his little yellow eyes, "Did I do it 
to suit you, old pardner?" Yes, bless his old heart, he did 
do it just exactly to suit me and I did not waste any time in 
making him understand that I appreciated his game effort. 

Retrieving the game after it is knocked down is at least 
two-thirds of the sport in duck shooting for me and if I 
could not have a game Chesapeake for a shooting companion 
on a duck hunt, the game would not be worth the candle. 
Besides, I hold that it is nothing short of a crime for a man 
to go out on the marsh or river and shoot ducks indiscrim- 
inately, with no chance in many instances whatsoever, to 
retrieve them. It is downright brutality, and it should be 
stopped as far as possible by National enactment. 

A big percentage of the ducks that are killed in this 
country each year are left to rot or what is worse, the 
wounded ones are left to slowly starve to death, yet men 
will do this thing right along and call themselves "Sports- 
men." They are not sportsmen at all; they are just simply 
game hogs, that's all, and don't know it. 

Otter Boy crouches and points his intelligent head up the 
river. At first nothing can be seen, but a moment later a 
faint streak is discerned on the horizon, which immediately 
develops into a well-defined line of ducks coming down wind 
at the rate of a hundred miles an hour and headed directly 
for my blind. In another moment they are over the decoys, 
but out of range, high in the air. They fly about a quarter 
of a mile beyond me and it looks like they are going on. 
But they have seen the decoys and are turning. In coming- 
back they make one wide circle around the decoys, then 



22 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

come right back with wings set, with a swish, all the time 
talking to each other in their unintelligible duck language, 
probably saying to themselves, "Well, here is where it 
must be safe, with all these other ducks swimming around," 
when bang, bang, rings out from the innocent little island 
and three of the noble old canvasbacks hit the water about 
the same time. 

Otter Boy had all he could do retrieving these birds from 
the swift-running channel, but he gets them all without 
mishap and is soon crouching in the blind with me, eager 
and anxious for more. 

In an hour or so the flight is over until the evening flight 
commences to come in and we go back to our dear little tem- 
porary home on the island, to eat and smoke and talk over 
the many incidents of shooting, thus cementing a friendship 
among kindred spirits that will last until time is no more. 

These experiences are repeated with more or less diver- 
sion each morning and evening until the time comes to re- 
turn to our home and loved ones. 

Looking back from a prominent position on the "hurri- 
cane" deck of the old lumber wagon as we proceed to the 
depot, our eyes longingly dwell on the old familiar blinds, 
the long stretches of the sandy river with its innumerable 
little islands and sand bars; the dear old camp site, now 
but a precious memory, until it all fades from sight and 
we are at the railroad station, where the curtain goes down 
on another outing with the ducks, the memory of which 
will remain green long after our eyes become too dim to 
see the sights on our gun barrels, but we will still have 
the pleasure of taking our little grandsons on our knees in 
after years and regaling them with the pleasurable inci- 
dents connected with the trip. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 23 

The Art of Calling Ducks. 

Of shadowed nooks upon some quiet river 's shore — Bhymes of Stream and Forest. 



BY R. P. HOLLAND. 



Many and diversified are the opinions of duck shooters 
as to the merits of a duck call, regardless of how it is 
made or who blows it. Some insist that at best it is a 
detriment, while you find others who think a good bag is 
impossible without a call in the blind. 

A friend of mine who knows the duck game from A to Z 
will finally admit, when he becomes tired of hearing me 
argue the question, that occasionally a call will attract 
their attention, thereby gaining you a shot that otherwise 
would have been lost. 

And still I have had this same fellow when in a blind with 
me and a bunch of old wise mallards were circling, trying to 
make up their minds whether or not to run the risk, nudge 
me in the side with his elbow and whisper, "Talk to 'em!" 
' ' Talk to 'em ! ' ' Then when they had swung back to the call 
and were making their last circle, some of them with feet 
hanging, he would sink his fingers into my leg as though 
trying to shut off the call to keep from scaring them. 

Personally, I would just as soon go shooting without the 
gun as without the call. To me there is no comparison in 
sitting in a blind with everything quiet, while a bunch circles 
you and decoys, and the same bunch coming in with the call 
in action. In the first place every duck in the flock is look- 
ing with both those little beady eyes for something wrong. 
If you happen to move a trifle one of them is sure to see 
you. 



24 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

There is absolutely no question but that when properly 
used a call is of the greatest benefit to the man shooting- 
over decoys. Go down around Big Lake, Arkansas; the 
lower Mississippi; the marshes along the South Coast; 
mingle with the men who in years gone by have made their 
living shooting wild-fowl, and running from the upper 
pocket of their coats or shirts, as the case may be, to the 
nearest buttonhole you will notice a piece of string. On 
the end of that string is a "squawker." They wear them 
the year round, as much a part of their apparel as the 
shirt itself. Pretty good proof that the duck-call is of some 
advantage in hunting ducks. 

Go out in a blind with one of these old chaps and hear 
him work on a bunch of mallards. You will be converted 
right there, but remember it has taken him years to ac- 
quire this degree of skill. You can't take his call and do 
the same thing. The chances are you have seen and heard 
an expert. Blindfold him and let a duck or ducks fly by, 
and the chances are he can tell you the species by the 
sound of their wings. 

There are days when ducks won't decoy; likewise there 
are days when a call is useless. The day when a call works 
best is the ordinary duck day when all ducks want to decoy 
but are a little too wise to plump right in. 

I have been learning to blow a call all my life and I am 
still learning. At times I fully decide that I know all there 
is to know; that I am fully as competent as a ten-year-old 
mallard hen; then I strike one of these days when the first 
quack of a call will send them towering and I switch to the 
other side, vowing all calls are worse than useless. Again 
I get down in a blind with some old market shooter and 




»p & 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 25 

sit there with mouth wide open, wondering if in reality this 
man isn't part dnck. 

To be a good caller it is almost necessary to be able to 
name your species as soon as you clap eyes on them; at 
least you must know what they are before they are in speak- 
ing distance. And besides you must know what they say. 
You must know when to give the nocking call and when the 
feed call. Doesn't sound easy, does it? Well, it isn't. 

I have found that the most essential thing is not to stop 
calling as soon as you see they are coming in, but keep it 
up; keep them guessing; don't give them time to think. 

When you are in doubt about your birds, talk mallard to 
most any of them and it will generally work. 

The quack — quack — quack has erroneously been called the 
mallard alarm call, but not so. Rather, it is more of a sen- 
tinel call that ''All's well." All of us that have startled an 
old mallard hen out of the reeds and seen her bounce up 
squawking, every call louder than the one before, should 
know what the real alarm is. I have seen mallards float- 
ing in the current of the Missouri River all day long with 
no one bothering them and keeping up an incessant quack 
— quack — quack. If you hope to interest them from a bar 
blind, you must start in with this same line of talk. 

The feeding call of the redhead is similar to the meow of 
a cat, while the bluebill call is a cross between the caw of a 
crow and the quack of a duck. All species of deep-water 
duck can be swum into the decoys with the bluebill k-u-u-u-t 
(let your tongue vibrate and say this and you can do pretty 
well without a call). Give them this call and when they 
either answer you or start swimming, repeat it every five 
to ten seconds. Often they will swim part of the way and 
raise and come in on the wing. — Outing. ■ 



26 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The White-Winged Scoter. 



The scoters or coots, of which there are three species, 
form the principal object of sport along the entire New 
England coast; the other and more valuable species of the 
so-called fresh-water ducks have now reached a point where 
they are but little hunted, owing to scarcity and the drastic 
measures adopted by the Federal authorities under which 
they may be taken. 

Early in September the female surf scoter appears along 
the entire coast line of Massachusetts, the flight continuing 
about fourteen days; then the male follows; next a flight 
of the female American scoters, followed by the male; then 
last the female white-winged scoter and the male. During 
migration much depends upon weather conditions regarding 
a large flight of these birds along the shores of northern 
Massachusetts. Oftentimes the main flight is over by the 
last of September, especially that of the most numerous 
specie, the surf scoter. 

All Winter the scoters congregate on the shoals south of 
Cape Cod, Nantucket, and Martha's Vineyard in greater 
numbers than anywhere else along the Atlantic Coast. 
There they find food and shelter abundant. The cape, with 
its natural feeding ground and acres and acres of marsh 
land also attracts thousands of the other ducks. 

With the first severe weather of the Winter the broad- 
bills, sheldrakes, whistlers and the red-legged black duck 
are then driven from the inland waters to the coast in 
search of food and fresh water. 

The white-winged scoter also frequents the Pacific Coast, 
especially the coasts of Oregon and Washington. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 27 

The Pleasures of Wild-Fowling. 



< < w e > V e heard the songs of many streams, 
In days that are now gone by. ' ' 



BY EDMUND W. WEIS, M. D. 



Can any scientist, biologist or philosopher explain the 
feeling of anticipating rapture to a man when he hears or 
sees something that suggests the possibility of hunting? 

Many have tried but I have never found a satisfactory 
explanation. Whether it is a relic of Barbarian ancestors 
to want to kill something, or of atavistic tendency of getting 
food, or the desire to circumvent the wary, or possibly to 
exercise an acquired skill with the gun, I do not know; but 
it must be something imperative that will cause a man to 
give up the comforts of home, brave possible dangers of 
sickness by exposure to inclement weather, to brave dangers 
of accidental mutilation and death. It will do all this and 
yet in spite of the most he can do, the net results may be — 
as they frequently are — nil. And yet he has had such an 
uplift of spirit, such ecstatic pleasure, that all other means 
of sport dwindle to the vanishing point. Far be it from 
me to attempt a reason, for as a matter of fact I have done 
all and more of these things. It is impossible for me to 
say just what motive possesses me. This, however, I do 
know, and that is when the season comes on there is an 
indescribable longing for a certain something that will only 
be satisfied by fondling my gun and examining the ammuni- 
tion box. Then come the days of desire and the nights of 



28 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

dreaming. Has there ever been a dnck hunter who has not 
filled his bag, has made the most beautiful and almost im- 
possible shots, has gloated over the fall of birds as they 
hovered over the decoys or swung past him on swift wing, 
who has not had almost as much pleasure in anticipation as 
realization? I sincerely believe the half hour before falling 
asleep has been of greater anticipated joy than the greatest 
bag ever attained. And then the night after, when tired 
out and worn to a frazzle by freeze and wet, when the 
muscles ache from rowing and walking in the swamps, 
stomach well filled and happy you stretch your body on the 
downy, how there passes in review the incidents of the day, 
the missed shot, the accident that caused the loss of the 
grand old greenhead, the folding up of graceful wings, the 
splash of the fall, the chase of the cripple and the satisfac- 
tion of a clean kill at 40 yards ; all of these are gone over 
and over until the keeper yells, "All up for breakfast." 

In my humble estimation, and it is not so humble either, 
being based on forty-five years' experience behind the gun, 
there is no sport to equal hunting the duck. Nor is there 
a greater paradise on earth anywhere to exercise this sport, 
than the old Illinois and its contributary waters. My expe- 
rience extends to the Far West, North and South, but no- 
where has the satisfaction been as great as just here where 
when the bag was full my friends enjoyed my joy and par- 
ticipated because they had the misfortune to stay at home. 

I started out to write up a duck hunt ; how can I, when all 
my hunts have been as one. Whether when as a kid unable 
to hold out straight the double barrel, I could bring some 
down by resting the same on the willows; from the first 
bird killed on the wing to the bag of the limit of green- 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 29 

heads only, it is just one kaleidoscope of hunt, of the days 
when we killed a hundred a day to those of just two or 
three, it has just been one grand time of solid enjoyment, 
selfish perhaps if you please, but pleasure exquisite never- 
theless. 

"Mark north!" Without moving a muscle excepting 
those of your eyes you follow the flight of a "bunch." 
The voice of the cedar call, now followed by the live hens 
out in front, you warily attempt to twist your neck around 
as they circle, one, two or three times and then the su- 
premest joy when they finally set their wings and float 
down, as it were, their yellow legs outstretched, down, 
down to just over the decoys, you rise up, slip your safety 
and — how you fondle him, admire the wet feathers, pat his 
plump breast, admire the beautiful colors! The cup of 
happiness is flowing over. The anticipated is realized, 
coupled perhaps with a slight regret, that he can never 
give you that exquisite moment again. 

Wherein lies greater satisfaction than a beautiful double 
— perhaps you are in the blind in the midst of a snow- 
storm, the peak of your cap is pulled down so that you 
cannot see well, or some day w T hen the flight has been poor 
you are slightly dozing, you open your eyes and peer 
through the meshes in the blind, you see a pair of strange 
birds swimming just on the outer edge of the decoys. In- 
voluntarily you stiffen, your hand begins to reach over 
toward the stock of your Remington, and as you rise the 
pair head for the sky. They are 35 or 40-45 yards away, 
perhaps 50 — crack, crack — and you start and stare as if 
some one had presented you with a fine jewel. 



30 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Again you are careless in your observation when suddenly 
like a streak there passes some teal. Without an instant's 
hesitation, it is but one moment to raise the gun, slip the 
safety, put it against your shoulder, throw the muzzle from 
3 to 8 feet ahead, press the trigger and they are yours. 

Again, and I will never forget this experience, a pair of 
mallards came in. I made a clean kill with the first barrel 
and missed with the second; the drake began to climb 
straight into the sky immediately over the blind, I slipped 
in the shell, raised the gun, struck a rotten limb above me, 
loosened a lot of punk-wood which filled my eyes, rubbed 
them clear and then sighted on him away up in the blue, 
when at the crack of the gun he "let go all hold" and came 
tumbling down not 20 yards away. 

Then again the sudden change from deep disappointment 
to gratification; you have fired both barrels into a bunch of 
small birds that had not any intention of stopping with you, 
they go sailing on and while you are wondering how it was 
possible to have missed, a number fall out and you retrieve 
some beauties. 

There is no grander passion from which one can realize 
so large a per cent, of absolute pleasure, recreation and 
pride of achievement as from that of duck hunting. And 
after the season is over, you have put gun and parapher- 
nalia away you settle down to business, take it from me, 
you will be a better man, more energetic in your work and 
do better in every way from having had a good play. For 
what is sport but — to play — "to practice field diversion." 
Every one in active business life should play at something 
if they desire to reach a happy, vigorous old age. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 31 

Duck Shooting on the New England Sea Ooast. 



When the Wawa has departed, 

When the wild goose has gone southward. 

— Longfellow. 



I have enjoyed making a study of the dncks that come 
in the migratory flight to Massachusetts. This has meant 
.many a watching with hunters in the duck-stands on vari- 
ous ponds, chasing the ducks on the ocean, or waiting in a 
gunning-line for them to come to me. 

It is very exciting to watch the approach of a flock to one 
of these " stands," or "bowers," on the shore of a pond. 
The flock first fly over and begin to circle around the pond. 
The live decoys set up their hoarse clamor of invitation. 
At length they splash down out in the middle of the pond 
near the "blocks" or wooden decoys. Looking cautiously 
about, they get their bearings, and begin to listen to the 
decoys. They do not always yield to the treachery, but 
when they once are deceived they swim in a body at a rapid 
rate right for the stand. Suddenly the guns, pointed 
through loopholes, blaze out at a concerted signal and there 
is meat for the hunters' table. A great many are thus 
taken in the ponds of southeastern Massachusetts and else- 
where. The best season is throughout October, especially 
about the middle, after a storm, when a cold northwest 
gale starts up. How they will fly, flock after flock, not 
only in early morning and late afternoon, as at ordinary 
times, but all day. 

Late in October the stands make ready for the Canada 
geese, some of them keeping large flocks of tame geese, 
bred from wild stock, for decoys. — Herbert K. Job. 



32 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Pintail. 



The pintail is to me a most interesting bird, always seem- 
ing to want to get away for the far North in the Spring. 
There are few more beautiful ducks than the pintail. Its 
long and pointed wings, narrow body, and long neck and 
tail, and its swiftness in flight, make it a handsome bird. 

The pintail is the first duck always to arrive from the 
South in the Spring and they push on north regardless of 
snow-storms and cold winds and are always thin in flesh at 
this season on account of flying so much. In the Fall they 
do not seem to be so plentiful, but in the Spring they are 
often seen in large flocks. They are very wary, and the 
hunter rarely gets a shot at a flock of any size. They seem 
to be constantly on the alert. The male bird is very hand- 
some, with his beautiful rich brown head and neck striped 
with white. They have been seen inside the Polar Circle 
and usually nest in the far North, although nesting some- 
what in the Dakotas, Idaho, Montana and Wyoming. 

The flight of the pintail is very erratic, darting about 
considerable and generally remaining well up in the air and 
bearing in a northerly direction in the Spring. 

The pintail associates considerably with the mallard, and 
mounted specimens of hybrids may be seen at the Field 
Museum, Jackson Park, and the Academy of Sciences, Lin- 
coln Park, Chicago. Both pintails and mallards are fond 
of frequenting little ponds in the cornfields in the Spring 
and also are often found on the prairies where cattle are 
being fattened for the market by being fed corn, the birds 
picking up the scattered kernels wasted by the cattle. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 33 

A Duck Hunt On the Kankakee. 



' ' These were the best days of my life ; these were my golden days. ' ' — The Trail 

of the Sand-Hill Star/. 



Although I have fought the waves on many a stormy 
day, and have been out in many severe storms on various 
occasions, one hunt in particular on the Kankakee lingers 
in my memory. 

My brother Henry and myself left our home, Morris, 
Illinois, located on the Illinois River, early in December, 
our camping destination being on the Kankakee Islands, a 
group of heavily wooded islands in the Kankakee River 
about one mile above its confluence with the Des Plaines. 
We had two 16-foot galvanized-iron boats, forty decoys, 
plenty of ammunition, tent, blankets, and camp-stove for 
cooking on and to heat our tent. Also a small hand-saw, 
for there is nothing so useful in preparing stove-wood. 

Some of the other hunters warned us that it was pretty 
late in the season to go camping, but we thought we should 
perhaps be able to return before the river should freeze up 
for the winter. The weather up to this time had been 
comparatively mild. 

The first day we rowed ten miles up the Illinois to the 
junction of the Des Plaines and Kankakee Rivers, and then 
entering the Kankakee River, reached the islands where we 
were to camp in the middle of the afternoon. We were 
something over eleven miles from Morris. We did not 
hunt any that day, being content in making our camp com- 
fortable and laying in a supply of wood, of which there was 



34 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

plenty at hand. The Kankakee here flows through a prairie 
country and there was no timber except on the islands. The 
river here runs directly north, and to the west of us for 
four or five miles was a vast prairie. About one mile from 
us in this prairie was located Goose Lake, a large lake 
surrounded by many smaller ponds, a famous resort of the 
wild-fowl. Ducks crossed back and forth from the Kanka- 
kee and also from the Des Plaines to this lake in vast flocks 
at night to feed, and returned to the rivers in the morning, 
and I have been camping on the Des Plaines when the roar 
of their wings could be heard a quarter of a mile, as flock 
after flock came down the Des Plaines from Joliet Lake to 
cross over to the Kankakee and then to Goose Lake to 
spend the night. I greatly admire the wild ducks' powers 
of flight. They certainly "Go some ever they die," in the 
words of the Canadian lumber-jack, and when they put on 
the high speed, well, good-night! If you can stop a single 
green-wing teal coming down the wind, you are then quali- 
fied to be called a marksman. 

We decided to remain on the river at the islands as it 
might freeze up suddenly at any time. 

The next morning was cloudy and a slight wind blowing, 
but there seemed something ominous in the air, as though 
a storm were impending. My brother set out one-half of 
our wooden decoys (about twenty) at the extreme lower 
point of the largest island, and I set out the other a short 
distance above him between the two largest islands. 

There did not seem to be many ducks on the wing until, 
early in the afternoon, the wind increased very strongly 
and it began to snow and blow a gale from the northwest. 
In fact, it was the beginning of a blizzard. 



"The wind comes gently at the break of day. 




Ono of the Many Beautiful Islands on the Kankakee Biver. 
Photo by W. M. Lyon, Chicago. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 35 

By 3 o'clock large flocks of mallards would come over 
the great oak trees on the island, hurried along by the wind 
and falling snow, and as they would catch sight of my de- 
coys in the sheltered place between the islands, would close 
their wings nearly to their bodies and literally coast down 
the air with a rush over my decoys. They seemed to sense 
that this was no ordinary storm. Had they not been al- 
ready driven from Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Co- 
lumbia in September by ice and cold; from Minnesota and 
Wisconsin to Illinois and Iowa in October and November, 
and now this meant to them a flight to Reelfoot Lake in 
Tennessee or the bayous of the Mississippi over night! 

There would be the sound of whizzing, rushing wings, a 
puff of smoke, a dull boom of the gun and a fat mallard 
would drop; another puff of smoke, another boom, and an- 
other would drop. 

By 4 o'clock, when I had shot about twenty mallards, I 
had great difficulty in getting back to the island each time I 
would go out to retrieve my birds, as the soft snow was 
floating down the river and gradually becoming coated with 
a crust of ice on top, every few minutes would carry some 
of my decoys away. Those nearest to shore were in a little 
eddy and were not affected by the ice so much. 

After a few parting shots, for I knew I would get no 
more opportunities until the following Spring, and as it was 
fast becoming dark, about 4 : 30 I decided to return to our 
camp, and after taking up the few decoys still on the water, 
I rowed my boat to shore and turned it over on the bank 
with the decoys under it. I had twenty-six fine mallards. 

My brother had returned to camp before me with about 
twenty mallards and after making things snug in the tent, 
we were about to retire. 



36 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Just then a spark from our stove caught fire to our tent, 
but we extinguished it before it had burned the tent very 
much and patched the hole up with a flour sack. 

The next morning was clear and cold, with the thermome- 
ter well below zero. 

We started to walk across the island when my brother 
looked at me and said: "Your ears are white. They are 
frozen!" "Yours are too!" I told him, as soon as I glanced 
at him. We rubbed them briskly to take the frost out. 

What a change in the appearance of the river from the 
day previous! Where we had rowed our boats the day 
before there was now a solid sheet of ice that would bear 
our weight. There were no ducks in sight. They had left 
for a warmer climate and where they could find open water 
and were probably hundreds of miles away. 

We busied ourselves during the day in making a couple 
of sleds strong enough to hold our boats and outfit, as we 
knew that was the only way we could get home, as the 
river was surely frozen over for the season. 

The following morning we loaded the boats on the sleds 
and started on our homeward journey. After going a half 
mile we saw there was a narrow strip of water in the center 
of the river which was not frozen, as the current was swift 
here for several miles. So this time we loaded the sleds 
into the boats and thought we would take a chance on get- 
ting out at the lower end of the open water, how far down 
the river it was we did not know. We went about three 
miles and found it extended no further and pulled our boats 
out on the ice again and resumed our journey. We had 
visions of La Salle and his men crossing to the Illinois 
from Lake Michigan in the dead of winter and descending 
the Illinois to Peoria on the ice with their canoes on sledges. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 37 

When we reached Twin Island, eight miles from Morris, 
we saw we would be unable to reach Morris with our entire 
equipment that day and so we left our boats turned over 
on the river bank with the decoys underneath them to re- 
turn for them later. While we were arranging the boats 
a flock of prairie chickens flew over our heads in the strag- 
gling manner peculiar to them, and as a result of four 
shots fired at them, three prairie chickens fell. One miss! 

We finally reached home with our guns and game about 
dusk, well pleased with our trip, even though our ears were 
frozen ! 



What a joy to the hunter to feel a pair of gun barrels in 
his hands, or do you use an automatic or pump? 

Duck hunting numbers more devotees than any other 
branch of hunting small game, and no one with red blood 
can resist its lure once it has been experienced. 

The hunter is seated in his blind and two distant reports 
of a shot-gun come floating down the wind to his ears, and 
nearly a mile away he sees a flock of black objects that re- 
semble a swarm of bees headed toward him. They become 
larger and larger, weaving in and out and constantly shift- 
ing their positions in the flock. Soon he hears the roar of 
their wings as it drives their whizzing bodies through the 
air. Some speed there, boy! They see the decoys, begin to 
lower their flight, make several graceful circles, slacken up 
a trifle, there are two streams of fire pour from the muzzle 
of his gun, and a pair of birds fall one after the other, as 
though thrown from a catapult. 



38 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Woodcock. 



While a boy many times I unexpectedly came upon a 
woodcock while roaming the woods and along the borders 
of rivers and streams. The woodcock is a most interesting 
and curious bird, and when I would flush one from under 
the willows near some favorite feeding place or resort of 
the bird, in a few days I would happen around to the same 
locality again to see if the bird was still frequenting his 
old haunt. Almost invariably the bird would be flushed 
from nearly the same spot. Sometimes it would not be 
far from human habitation. In later years I spent consider- 
able time hunting woodcock and became well acquainted 
with their many peculiarities and strange habits. 

The peculiar whistle of the woodcock's wings as he flushes 
is a little different from that of any other game bird, and 
once heard is not soon forgotten. Sometimes a woodcock 
will be flushed in the Fall from an orchard or from the 
side of a hill in the timber where there is not much under- 
brush, but probably a little creek not far distant. 

The woodcock feeds largely at night and often the hunter 
will see one flit by like a shadow on his way to some feed- 
ing place. His flight at such times is very silent and almost 
ghostly. 

While eccentric in flight when flushed, the bird does not 
usually go but a short distance, darting down into the cover. 

Old Jack, my star duck dog, was the best dog for wood- 
cock hunting I have ever seen. If there were any birds in 
the locality, he would soon find them, no matter how dense 
the cover. 



lip 




DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 39 

Reminiscences of the Chesapeake Bay Dog. 



In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's flow. — Longfellow. 



BY GEORGE L. HOPPEE. 



Of all the Chesapeake Bay retrievers, or any other kind 
of retrievers, it has been my pleasure to shoot over, Old 
Bob of Spesutia Island stands out, in my personal recol- 
lections, the peer of them all. He was a most perfect speci- 
men of the rough or curly-coated dog. His outer coat was 
curled and twisted as close and as tight as the wool on a 
Guinea nigger's head. It felt to the hand like the wool of 
a Merino sheep; in color like the sands on the shore. And 
he weighed about eighty pounds. 

Old Bob was raised and owned by Colonel Ned Mitchell, 
one of God's noblemen, standing six feet seven inches in his 
stocking feet, a big man in every way the term may be ap- 
plied ; hospitable, kind and indulgent to a fault towards any 
boy coming to the island for a day's outing, fishing, crab- 
bing and to shoot ducks and snipe. He could mix a mint 
julep which would make you virtuous and happy and teach 
you to speak the truth, especially when describing the 
largest fish which always gets away. Woodcock and quail 
could be found in goodly numbers, too, during their re- 
spective seasons. 

"Can Bob go with us, Mr. Mitchell?" was always the 
first demand upon the Colonel's hospitality. 

"Why, certainly, take Bob along with you, boys! You 
can't get your ducks without Bob." 



40 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Old Bob would give you a very friendly recognition at 
the sight of the gun on your shoulder. But you might coax 
until you were blue in the face, not a step would he go be- 
yond that gate, to which he had accompanied you as gal- 
lantly as the Colonel himself always did, upon your de- 
parture for home, after a pleasant and successful outing at 
the Middle Island Farm. Bob would sit by the gate, and if 
you attempted to tie a rope about his neck he would let 
you know by unmistakable signs that he would regard it as 
a personal insult and treat you accordingly. The only 
thing you could do was to inform the Colonel that Bob re- 
fused to go. What a pleased look would encompass that 
big, kindly and honest old face when you informed him 
that Bob refused to go with you. The Colonel would then 
come out on the porch and laughinglv call out: 

"Bob, come here a minute! Why don't you go along- 
down to the shore with the boys and help them to get 
some ducks?" 

The Colonel's request was sufficient. Out the gate Old 
Bob would bound, as much pleased as we were, and would 
stay with us from daybreak to dark. I have seen him on 
such occasions follow a crippled duck so far into that bay 
it became difficult to distinguish which was the dog's head 
and which the duck, as they arose and disappeared from 
the rolling waves. We would become alarmed, fearing he 
might become exhausted by following the duck such a great 
distance, then we would fire our gun, a signal, he never 
failed to answer promptly by returning ashore. 

OLD BOB BRINGS HOME SOME DUCKS. 

The gunning days upon the flats or feeding grounds of 
the upper Chesapeake are Mondays, Wednesdays and Sat- 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 41 

urdays. Other days of the week, according to the local 
laws, they are allowed to feed unmolested. A good, stiff 
northerly breeze upon gunning days would drift most all the 
dead and crippled ducks not picked up by the lookout boats 
which attend the sink boxes upon the shore of Spesutia 
Island. No one knew this better than Bob. He would be 
up and doing by daylight the next morning, diligently hunt- 
ing, and would find every dead and crippled duck, then tote 
them, two and three at a time, to the house, invariably 
placing them at the kitchen door. I distinctly recall the 
old cook rushing to the dining room c'oor one Sunday 
morning, exclaiming in a very excited manner: 

"Befo' God, Miss Susie, if Bob ain't gone done and 
bringed home another passel of dem ducks!" 

We all rushed out to see, and sure enough, there were a 
dozen or more canvasbacks, redheads and blackheads. 

A CONTRAST BETWEEN THE PAST AND PRESENT. 

It is one of my most pleasing pastimes, when harking 
back over this trail of life, to draw a comical contrast be- 
tween the up-to-date hunting outfit which we all possess 
nowadays and that in general use when we were boys ; also 
the amount of game to the number of shots fired and the 
cost of anununition expended, etc. We now have double- 
barreled automatic ejectors, to say nothing of the death- 
dealing pump and automatic shotguns, containing ammuni- 
tion costing, on the average, for duck-loaded shells, 3.28 
cents each. In our boyhood days I sallied forth, in com- 
pany with a little nigger and Old Bob, armed with a single- 
barreled shotgun longer than myself, equipped with a hick- 
ory ramrod, a wad of newspaper for wadding, a quarter of 



42 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

a pound of black powder, a pound of shot and a box of 
G. D. caps. And when the waterproof cap came in vogue 
the uttermost limit of perfection, we thought, had been 
reached with the fowling-piece. 

TOLUNG DUCKS ON CHESAPEAKE BAY. 

At tolling Old Bob was unexcelled. We would saunter 
along the shore of the island until we located a raft of 
ducks within a half mile of shore. Then if conditions were 
favorable we would hide behind an old log or a pile of 
driftwood, as nearly opposite the ducks as possible. Bob 
was then coaxed into the hiding place and a red bandana, 
borrowed from old Aunt Melissa for the occasion, was 
made fast about midship of Bob's tail. When the bandana 
was made fast and secure, cut would bound Old Bob, de- 
lighted to begin tolling. He would begin about fifty yards 
above or below us, running belly deep in the surf, barking 
at the top of his voice, then turn at about fifty yards, keep- 
ing up the performance until the ducks' attention was at- 
tracted. As the ducks swam in towards the shore Bob 
worked back upon the shore until he was to our rear some 
ten or fifteen yards, always on the bounce and barking as 
loud as he could. I have seen the ducks came in to the 
very edge of the surf; then, with a steady rest and an aim 
that never failed, we would knock over five or six at a shot, 
sometimes more. At the crack of the gun Old Bob would 
rush into the water and grab the cripples. It mattered not 
how many you knocked over, the cripples received his first 
attention. We would gather up the ducks as Bob brought 
them to us and then move on until we located another raft 
of ducks at a favorable distance from shore. Thus we 
would continue until we became so tired and hungry we 



^r 







DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 43 

would have tried to eat a duck fried in coal tar. With the 
gun stock strained almost to the breaking point by the 
weight of the ducks, we would homeward plod our weary 
way, hungry and tired, but oh! how proud and happy. 
Would that such happiness could always be continued until 
we pass over the Great Divide into the Happy Hunting 
Grounds. — The American Field. 

»*♦ ♦*♦ •$♦ 

The Nesting Season of Wild Ducks. 



Nature is the kindest mother still. — Byron. 



I spent two seasons in North Dakota observing the nest- 
ing of wild ducks. While there is no exact time at which 
each species lays — for individuals are very erratic — there 
is an average date at which one can expect to find the bulk 
of a species thus employed. 

During a week's time spent among the large sloughs of 
North Dakota, from June 7 to 14, I found a considerable 
number of nests of the canvasback, redhead and ruddy 
ducks, built out in the reeds over water averaging knee 
deep, all of which made a very interesting study. The 
ruddy ducks were only just laying and had anywhere from 
one to ten eggs. The redhead is a great layer. Some days 
I found half a dozen nests, most of which had as many as 
ten eggs, several times as many as fifteen, and once I 
flushed a redhead from a nest of twenty-two eggs— the 
largest set that I have ever seen in the nest of any bird. 
The canvasback usually had ten or eleven eggs, sometimes 
as few as seven. One nest that I found was in a very 



44 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

large, open clump, away out in the water. Mrs. Canvasback 
was asleep on the nest, with her bill resting on her breast. 
I stood within ten yards of her, and watched her for several 
minutes. Think of it! The famous canvasback of the epi- 
cure at home in the northern wilds, out on the lake, asleep 
in her ark — what a scene it was! 

The little calendar I give I would not set up against the 
observations of others; it is simply the average of two sea- 
sons' continuous observation. Mallards and pintails are 
notably the early birds, laying any time after the first of 
May — occasionally before, I am told — though I think that 
about May 20 one will find the greatest number of nests. 
By this time, in ordinary seasons, the canvasbacks have 
laid and the hooded mergansers. May 25 is about the right 
date for goldeneyes ; June 1 for teal, shovelers, and red- 
heads; June 10 or later for gadwalls and ruddies; June 15 
and on for the scaups and baldpates, and the 1st of July 
for the white-winged scoter. — Herbert K. Job. 

"Listen! Here comes another bunch." We both began 
scanning the heavens. High up and towards the north was 
a bunch of specks that were growing larger and larger as 
they roared down. Nothing so much did this roar resemble 
as a distant aeroplane high overhead. On down the lake 
they whirred, and back straight over the blind. The roar 
from their wings seemed equal in volume to that of an ex- 
press train. Down the lake they went, and back over the 
decoys. As they swept past us we picked four white-backed 
drakes from the rear guard. — R. P. Holland. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 45 

Battery Shooting On Great South Bay, Long Island. 



It is far from being easy work to kill in the battery. 
The water and the sky-line, the immense open space and 
the clear atmosphere, tend to deceive you in the matter of 
distance. The ducks appear to be fully as near you as they 
really are, and a tyro at the play would certainly shoot 
prematurely. 

Again about battery shooting — the trick the birds have 
of getting right into the decoys without your seeing their 
approach. Of course, many come from behind you, and the 
rule of lying flat on your back prevents you from keeping a 
lookout in this direction, but the number of bunches, large 
flocks, pairs, and single birds that come from the very di- 
rection your face is turned to and fly right in front of your 
gun muzzles before you discover them is astounding. And 

these are the birds most often missed. 

* * * * ***** * 

The scene was a charming" one to both the tyro and the 
experienced man. Far to the eastern point of the bay, rid- 
ing quietly on the shallow water's surface, like an immense 
raft of small wood, the eye could plainly discern a great 
body of duck. Brant, broadbill, black duck, redhead, sprig- 
tail, old squaw, "coot" (scoter), and sheldrake all wheeled 
by in small platoons, some skimming over the decoys, others 
far out beyond the head of the stool. 

Five couples and a half of beautiful black duck, their 
ruddy features glistening in the early sunshine, skimmed 
into the very center of the flock of imitation fowl, set their 
wings fully outstretched, lowered their feet, and dipped into 
the salty bay with the graceful ease of a brood of swans 
putting out into some mansion pond. — The Wildfoivlers. 



46 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

A Morning's Sport at Clayton Lake, Minnesota. 



The autumn day is flecked with gold, 
And wild-fowl hover down the dusky air. 

— Isaac McLellan. 



BY H. A. STAHN. 



We have some splendid duck shooting in Minnesota and 
for many years this has been my favorite recreation. 

There is a chain of lakes in southern Minnesota and at 
one of them, Clayton Lake, fourteen miles from Fairmont, 
myself and a few companions have a cabin, and we enjoy 
a few days' shooting each season at this point. 

After reaching the lake at evening preparatory to a day's 
shooting on the morrow, with what pleasure does one ar- 
range all the details that nothing may be missing to con- 
tribute to the following day's sport. 

You note the direction of the wind, condition of the 
weather, etc., not forgetting of course to keep a sharp look- 
out for flocks of ducks flying from one lake to the other and 
noting the course of their flight, and then finally, after re- 
tiring and finally inducing yourself to sleep a little, some- 
what feverishly, to be sure, with the anticipated sport to 
come, how it thrills one to be awakened in the night and 
hear the "quack!" "quack!" of ducks on every side! 

Our cabin is located on a point on Clayton Lake, nearly 
surrounded by water, in a bunch of timber, which makes the 
cabin nearly invisible from any part of the lake. We can 
literally see and not be seen. 




Forty-five canvasbacks and mallards after a morning's shooting." 
Courtesy of II. A. Stahn, Fairmont, Minn. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 47 

My banner morning's sport occurred several years ago 
before the present Minnesota bag limit was in force. 

Myself and partner set out for our morning hunt with 
125 shells each. It was a clear, still day in October. There 
was no wind blowing and we decided to locate near the 
center of the lake where the ducks were flying across. 

This lake covers an area of perhaps 700 to 800 acres, 
with tall rushes extending about 300 yards from shore. 
We set out our decoys near a large bunch of rushes not 
far from the center of the lake. We had an outer bunch of 
six or eight decoys some distance out and a larger number 
near the rushes, where our boat was partially concealed. 
The outer bunch of decoys were a fine attraction. The 
birds would swoop down to them and at the same time 
they would see the decoys near the rushes, which would 
coax them down our way. We could not use live decoys on 
account of the deep water. 

The flight of ducks that came over us that morning the 
reader can hardly realize and we wasted more ammunition 
than usual in shooting at long range on account of the 
quietness of the morning and the consequent higher flight 
of the birds. 

This was one of the grandest morning's sport I ever had 
in all my hunting career, and when my partner and myself 
counted up our birds before returning to our cabin at about 
11 o'clock, we found we had 46 fine birds, nearly all can- 
vasbacks and mallards. 

On account of the bag limit, we shall never be able to 
equal this again. 



48 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Tree Ducks of South America, Mexico and Texas. 



There are several species of tree ducks and the one illus- 
trated in this book is the fulvous duck, sometimes called 
the long-legged duck in Texas. It is also found in Louis- 
iana and the other semi-tropical States bordering the Gulf 
of Mexico, and central and southern California, and also 
frequenting Washoe Lake, Nevada. 

These ducks seem to be intermediate between the true 
geese and ducks. They alight on the branches of trees near 
a stream or lake, and walk about on them as if much at 
home. In fact, they are generally said to pass most of 
their daylight hours in the branches of trees, and to do 
most of their feeding and make their flights at night. 

The flesh of the different tree ducks is said to be most 
delicious. 

The tree ducks all have much longer legs than ordinary 
wild ducks, so they are enabled to wade very readily in 
shallow water and feed. 

They are said by various authorities not to frequent salt 
water, but their habitat is fresh-water lakes and sloughs, 
where they feed on the grasses that grow there, and also 
visiting the corn-fields at night in search of grain. 

The bird is an excellent diver, and on account of their 
long legs are able to run very fast when on shore. 

Theodore Roosevelt mentions seeing different varieties of 
tree ducks on his recent Brazilian trip. 

Excellent specimens of the tree duck may be seen in the 
aviary at Lincoln Park, Chicago. 

The fulvous duck is slightly larger than a mallard. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Tale of a Swan. 



49 



And these bring pictures to my dreaming eyes, 
Of river, woodland, marsh, and stubblefield. 

— Ernest McGaffey. 



A party of us duck-hunters were encamped on a timbered 
island at the west end of Goose Lake, a famous ducking 
ground, and were spending several weeks there during the 
Fall duck-shooting season. 

This lake was a half mile from the Kankakee River, but 
there was no way of getting a boat into the lake except by 
making a portage across the intervening land from the 
Kankakee River. As the adjoining land-owners had many 
cattle, they did not look with favor on hunters crossing the 
land to the lake, and so we usually made the journey in the 
night time, as we were scrupulous about frightening the 
cattle. We had one boat in the lake permanently and an- 
other on the river, as we went to the nearest town about 
twice a week with our game and returned with ammunition, 
provisions, etc. 

The main sheet of water at Goose Lake was about three- 
quarters of a mile long and perhaps a quarter of a mile in 
width. At the west end of the lake were smaller ponds for 
several miles surrounded by a great prairie. The ducks 
would feed in the smaller ponds mostly mornings and even- 
ings, flying back and forth from the open water of the lake. 

During midday there was a lull in the flight and some- 
times I would spend a few hours rowing along the shores 
of the lake and getting a few shots at stray birds and also 
occasionally stirring up the main body of birds on the lake, 



50 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

causing them to fly around so that the other hunters of our 
party who were stationed at the smaller ponds with their 
decoys would get some shooting. 

One day an enormous solitary swan settled himself at 
one end of the lake, not within gunshot of shore, however, 
and made himself at home on the waters of the lake. Where 
he came from was a mystery, but evidently he had dropped 
in during the night some time and was probably separated 
from some flock on its migration. 

He had an immense stretch of wings, and with his long 
neck could be seen at a great distance. 

The bird was an excellent judge of the killing distance of 
a shotgun, for he would remain on the bosom of the lake 
watching me until I had approached him with the boat al- 
most within range, when he would stretch his great wings 
and fly to the other end of the lake. He would sometimes 
fly over the shore when making a circle, but usually was 
careful enough to keep over the open surface of the lake. 
However, he would not leave the lake altogether, but he 
would circle around a few times and then return, encourag- 
ing me in the hope that I would finally get a shot at him. 

I did not know that there were any other hunters at the 
main lake, as my companions were at the ponds at the west 
end of the lake watching their decoys. 

Unknown to me, however, there was a hunter ambushed 
in the deep rushes bordering the lake and had been unseen 
by either the swan or myself. He was probably very much 
interested in my chasing the swan from one end of the lake 
to the other, but was careful to keep out of sight. 

After an hour or so of this kind of work I was about to 
give up the swan chase as something akin to a wild-goose 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 51 

chase, when behold! the swan made a final circle over the 
tall rushes at the margin of the lake before returning to 
open water. Suddenly there was the flash of a gun, a loud 
report, and the swan fell heavily into the edge of the lake 
pierced by a load of duck shot. He had attempted to fly 
over the ambushed hunter's head and it was his finish. 

He surely was a monstrous bird and as I retrieved him 
for the gunner I mentally vowed I would not chase any 
more swans for a time, at least. 



Were you ever afloat in the flooded bottomlands of the 
big Southern rivers? Come to Louisiana, Mississippi or 
Arkansas for your real woods cruising — your voyages of 
exploration. A dozen paddle strokes carry you beyond 
sight of shore and into new wonder regions — new because 
the vista changes with each upward foot of the swelling 
flood. Weeds, switch-cane, bushes, drop out of sight, and 
the clean, straight trees rise like carved pillars from a 
marble court, marking open avenues in whatever direction 
fancy may prompt you to follow. Elsewhere the first of 
the winter storms bring mud, slush and enforced home- 
staying; here they mean open sailing in a dry and com- 
fortable boat, through the heart of the wilderness, where 
at other seasons passage is prohibited. Head freshets fol- 
low the waterways, but when the inrush from surcharged 
rivers sets back into the lowlands the currents may and do 
shift and change at varying stages of the flood. I love the 
overflow country. — Tredway H. Elliott. 



52 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Chesapeake Bay Dog. 



The dog is man's most faithful friend, and is the only animal who will follow 
him to the ends of the earth. — Lieut. Robert E. Peary. 



Every man who hunts wild-fowl much ought to have a 
good retriever. Setters and Irish water spaniels are very 
commonly used. The best duck dog, in my opinion, is one 
who combines the best qualities of each breed by crossing. 
The best duck dog I ever saw was a dog of this description. 
He was a fine retriever and had a nose as good as any 
setter. He could be used for duck hunting and was just as 
valuable for hunting quail, prairie chickens, woodcock or 
jack snipe. No wounded duck could escape him in the reeds 
or rushes. 

For about one hundred years there have been bred about 
Chesapeake Bay a breed of dogs called the Chesapeake Bay 
dog. The history of this breed is partly authentic and 
partly traditional. It is said that about the year 1805 
there arrived at Baltimore a ship called the "Canton," 
which at sea had met with an English brig bound from 
Newfoundland to England, in a sinking condition. On this 
ship were found two puppies, a dog, which was brown in 
color, and a bitch, black. These puppies were rescued and 
became the property of a Mr. Law. The dog was named 
Sailor, and his mate, Canton. The dog passed into the 
hands of Governor Lloyd, of Maryland, and the bitch be- 
came the property of Dr. Stewart, of Sparrows Point. 
Their progeny became the Chesapeake Bay dogs. 

Thanks to a coterie of sportsmen in the Middle and Far 
West, and particularly in Minnesota and the Dakotas, in- 
terest in this great breed of retrievers has not entirely 




"A PRTZE-WINNTNG CHESAPEAKE.-" 
' ' Edmund 's Lusitania. 
Courtesy of .1. V. Parks, Battle Mountain Kennels, Hot Springs, 8. I>. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 53 

lapsed, and many excellent specimens are still being bred. 
Among those who had retained an abiding interest in these 
dogs is J. F. Parks, of Hot Springs, South Dakota. Mr. 
Parks is entitled to great credit for his efforts to per- 
petuate a pure strain of Chesapeake Bay dogs. From a 
recent article by him in The American Field I take the 
following interesting facts: 

"The Chesapeake Bay dog has been developed to a very 
high state of perfection on the shores of Chesapeake Bay 
and has been used as retrievers by duck hunters in that 
locality for a great many years. 

"In color they range from a deep seal brown down 
through the varying shades of brown to a very light sedge 
or 'faded buffalo' color, and in coat from the smooth, wavy, 
short coat to the heavy, thick coat, resembling very much 
the sheep pelt. These dogs have what is known as the 
double or otter coat, the under coat being very thick and 
furlike, while the other coat is of coarse hair. This differ- 
ence in color and coat seems to occur in almost every litter 
of puppies, and just why this is so is a mystery. A small 
white star is also frequently found on the breast of these 
dogs, but not always. Some fanciers prefer one shade and 
some another. Some prefer the short, wavy coat, but my 
experience warrants me in the conclusion that it matters 
very little what the shade of coat is, just so you are sure 
you have the pure breed of dogs, whose pedigree goes back 
to the two dogs landed in Maryland in the year 1805. 

"The thoroughbred Chesapeake is absolutely fearless and 
was never known to quit under the most trying conditions. 
Deep mud, tangled rice beds and rushes, as well as extreme 
cold, has no terrors for them. 



54 DUCK SHOOTING AND 'HUNTING SKETCHES. 

"I have seen these dogs break ice over an inch thick for 
a distance of fifty yards going after a duck and then turn 
around and break a new channel through the ice, back to 
me with the duck, and repeat the feat as often as they 
were called upon to so ; in fact, I have yet to see a retrieve 
so tough but what they would make the attempt at it, and 
if a physical possibility for them to accomplish it they 
always returned with the bird. 

"In order to be in a position to fully appreciate these 
dogs, one must come in actual contact with them and enjoy 
their companionship. They are, without doubt, the wisest 
dogs in existence, and as companions they are simply in a 
class by themselves. As a rule they are what is known 
among sportsmen as 'one-man dogs.' That is, they recog- 
nize but one master, and when they are properly trained 
to retrieve, an owner need not worry about getting his own 
duck when shooting with others in a marsh or on a river." 

Mr. George L. Hopper, of Duckabush, Washington, has 
the following to say of the Chesapeake Bay dog, also in 
The American Field: 

"Anything regarding the Chesapeake Bay dog will prove 
especially interesting to all the old-time Maryland and Vir- 
ginia sportsmen who were born and raised upon the banks 
of the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries; from these 
waters a greater variety of delicious good things can be 
had, with less effort, than any spot or place upon (rod's 
green earth. The most of us can recall the name and per- 
sonal characteristics of some certain Chesapeake Bay dog 
which was among our boon companions during our boyhood 
days, when we frolicked and whiled away the blossom of 
youth. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 55 

"We will all appreciate the personal interest Mr. J. F. 
Parks, of Hot Springs, South Dakota, has taken in our 
old-time friend by setting to print 'A Brief Legendary His- 
tory of the Chesapeake Bay Dog.' Although the exact 
origin of his ancestors always has been and always will 
remain clouded with some degree of uncertainty, what Mr. 
Parks has stated is about all that is to be known of the 
Chesapeake Bay retriever. 

"That the Chesapeake Bay retriever is the greatest of 
water dogs is undoubtedly owing to the great strength of 
his forelegs and powerful shoulders, but more especially to 
that peculiar and unexplainable furlike under coat, through 
which an oily substance is mixed, like unto the down of a 
duck, not natural to any other breed of dogs, which enables 
him to withstand the most rigorous weather during the 
ducking season. He is more especially appreciated by us 
old-time fellows for his knowledge of the art of tolling the 
ducks within gunshot, and they take to tolling as naturally 
as the setter does to pointing quail. No fox can be more 
skillful and cunning. 

"In disposition the Chesapeakes are most extraordinary. 
They are very quiet and they do not like to be disturbed, 
while watching over a stool of decoys, but other dogs and 
people not connected with the sport at hand. Some may 
think them sullen on that account, but they are never vicious 
or quarrelsome, either with dogs or people. They simply 
want to be be let alone. To them life begins and life ends 
retrieving and tolling for ducks. Their minds are never 
connected with other things. 



56 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

"The smooth, wavy, short-coated dogs are the most de- 
sired by some, because they can more thoroughly shake off 
the water and dry out more quickly. The smooth and curly- 
coated Chesapeake Bay retrievers are not distinct strains, 
as many suppose; they are both whelped from the same 
litter, the color ranging from a seal brown to a light sedge, 
as stated by Mr. Parks more fully. 

"During freezing weather the icicles do not form on the 
outer coat of the smooth-coated dog, as they do on the 
rough or curly-coated. But it seems to make no difference' 
to 'Old Curly.' He may tremble with excitement when the 
ducks are about to dart to the decoys, but he never shivers 
and suffers from the cold wind and icicles sticking to his 
coat. And I cannot recall at this writing of having 
ever seen a Chesapeake Bay retriever afflicted with canker 
of the ear, with which other dogs will surely become afflicted 
if permitted to retrieve from the water any great length 
of time." 

I quote the following from the Den of Mr. A. F. Hoch- 
walt, one of the greatest authorities on the dog in this 
country, who, in his very excellent work called "Dogcraft," 
has this to say of the Chesapeake Bay dog: 

"As a retriever of dead and wounded ducks, there is no 
dog that equals the Chesapeake. His great strength of 
limb, his unlimited powers of endurance, and his dense 
coat, fit him eminently for braving the waters of the Ches- 
apeake Bay, which is quite frequently covered with floating- 
ice, when much of the duck shooting is done. The Chesa- 
peake Bay dog has been known to swim for miles in a 
rough sea, covered with broken ice, after a wounded duck, 
a feat which few dogs would be able to equal." 




My First Goose." Courtesy of Clyde B. Terrell, Oshkosh, Wis. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 57 

Senachwine Lake in the Last Days of the Old Muzzleloader. 



The green trees whispered low and mild, 
And freshness breathed from every spring. 

— Longfellow. 



A description of the water-fowl at Senachwine Lake as 
it was thirty-five years ago, by T. S. Van Dyke: 

It was a bright September afternoon and as we reached 
Senachwine huge flocks of mallards rose with reverberating 
wings from the borders of the lake all around us and 
mounted high, with the sun brightly glancing from every 
plume. Plainly could I see the sheen of their burnished 
necks, the glistening bars upon their wings, the band of 
white upon their tails, surmounted by dainty curls of shin- 
ing green. 

Never did Nature make a finer background for such a 
display as appeared when twilight sank over the earth. 

Long lines of wild-fowl came streaming down from the 
northern sky, widening out and descending in long lines or 
long, sweeping curves. Dense bunches came rising out of 
the horizon, hanging for a moment on the glowing sky, then 
massing and bearing directly down upon us. 

No longer as single spies, but in battalions, they poured 
over the bluffs on the west, where the land sweeps into the 
vast expanse of high prairie, and on wings swifter than 
the wind itself came riding down the last beams of the 
sinking sun. Above them the air was dotted with long, 
wedge-shaped masses or converging strings, more slowly 
moving than the ducks, from which I could soon hear the 
deep, mellow honk of the goose and the clamorous cackle 
of the brant. 



58 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Old-Time Market Hunter. 



When twilight on the rushes falls. — roems of Gun and Bod. 



The markets for selling wild game now being closed 
generally throughout most of the States, the old-time duck 
hunter who shot for the market has now become a guide 
or "pusher" for the wealthier sportsmen, chiefly from the 
large cities. Like Othello, his former occupation is gone. 

At all points where there have been good duck shooting 
in this country, there have been men who have followed 
duck hunting for a livelihood. Naturally, as they were on 
the marshes and lakes of the ducking grounds each day and 
were constantly studying everything pertaining to wild- 
fowling, they came to possess greater knowledge than the 
ordinary hunter, whether from the cities or country, who 
only went duck hunting occasionally. Constant practice in 
shooting made them expert marksmen in most cases, and a 
number of America's most expert trap shots have been de- 
veloped from market hunters. 

There has sometimes been a feeling not entirely of friend- 
liness between the market hunter towards the wealthy man 
from the city who has come for a few days' or a week's 
shooting in the favorite resort of the local hunter. I have 
seen several illustrations of this. One man, the founder of 
a great business in Chicago, used to go hunting (he owned 
a gun costing $750, which he never fired), and would hire 
six or eight men to go out and do the shooting, paying them 
well, then return to Chicago with his game and distribute it 
among his friends. They thought he was a mighty hunter, 
no doubt. To my personal knowledge he was unable to hit 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 59 

a duck on the whig. Of course there are many fine sports- 
men among the hunters from the great cities, however. 

One Spring I had been on a hunting trip down the Illi- 
nois River and on my way back up the river my pardner 
and myself shot for a couple of weeks near the quaint little 
town of Chillicothe. 

We were camped about two miles from Chillicothe and 
would take turns going down to the town evenings for pro- 
visions, mail, etc. 

One of the best shots on the river was John L a most 

quiet and unassuming fellow who lived near Chillicothe. 
Most of the time he shot for the market, but sometimes 
would go out as a guide or pusher for some of the visiting 
hunters from the cities. 

Evenings the hunters and villagers would congregate in 
one of the few stores in the town, a grocery and general 
store, and tell stories, play checkers, etc. 

One evening I stopped in the store for a short time be- 
fore returning to our camp up the river. While I was in 
there a wealthy man from one of the large cities who was 
there for a few days' shooting, came into the store. 

One of the villagers asked him if he had had good shoot- 
ing that day. "Had he had good shooting? Why man!" 
And then followed accounts of the wonderful shooting he 
did that day, how he had brought them down out of the 
clouds, etc. Then a man who had been sitting behind the 
stove, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, arose and 
passed out and I thought I heard some muttered impreca- 
tions as the door closed behind him. 

It was John L and he had seen samples of the city 

man's " wonderful" shooting that very day. 



60 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Blue-Wing Teal. 



The blue-wing teal is a splendid little bird but one has 
never much opportunity to shoot them over decoys as they 
do not remain in Northern latitudes after the weather gets 
severe. They are first of the migratory ducks to be on the 
move south in the Fall and the last to return north in the 
Spring. They fly very swiftly and true and are always in 
good condition and plump. 

I am especially fond of hunting and shooting the blue- 
wing teal and in my opinion it is one of our finest game 
birds. I find many hunters admire the green-wing, but I 
much prefer to shoot the blue-wing as they are not nearly 
so erratic in their flight, do not dart around as the green- 
wing does, and do not shoot up into the air as the green- 
wing does when you fire at them, relying more on full 
speed ahead to take them out of danger. 

I have seen blue-wing teal in such vast flocks in the Fall 
that they resembled huge swarms of bees. They must be 
very prolific and surely there is no better bird on the table. 

"There is a charm about teal shooting which coaxes the 
sportsman to the resorts of these dainty birds at times be- 
fore frost has tipped the rushes or silvered the meadows in 
the adjacent fields. Late September and early October are 
the months when teal are hunted in the North, and the 
warm bright sunshine of midday finds the birds feeding in 
the marsh, or basking along the banks of some stream, or 
at the sides of a dilapidated muskrat house near the edge 
of open water." — William Bruce Leffingivell. 



DUCK SHOOTING! AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 61 

A Lucky Half Hour With the Blue- Wings on the Des Plaines 

River. 



All russet-like across the golden sky, 
A bunch of teal come sailing by. 

— Poems of Gun and Bod. 



One beautiful day in our grandest month,. October, I was 
rowing on the Des Plaines River a short distance above 
its mouth. A stretch of the river along here for several 
miles is a favorite resort of the blue-wing teal. 

There are here little coves and bayous bordered with 
rushes and there are numerous pond-lilies, water-cress and 
other aquatic plants growing along its borders. There are 
also little ponds at various points not far from the river 
and these ponds are. a favorite resort of these dainty little 
birds. 

Coming around a bend in the river I was within gunshot 
of a small flock of blue-wing teal before they had seen me 
or I had seen them. As they arose from the water I killed 
one with the first barrel and two with the second. 

At the report of the gun a large flock of blue-wings flew 
out from the opposite shore some distance above me and 
alighted in the middle of the river. There was at least 
fifty or sixty in the flock. 

They did not seem to be greatly alarmed and I quietly 
worked my boat into shore out of their sight and gradually 
dropped along close to shore down stream and around the 
bend. Here I could row without their seeing me so long 
as I did not go out into the river any distance. 



62 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

They had quieted down and swam into shore and were 
apparently undisturbed and had evidently no thoughts of 
their enemy, man. 

If I could get a shot into that flock I would surely get 
some ducks, for blue-wing teal fly closer together than any 
other of our ducks. 

I dropped down the river about a quarter of a mile and 
was then able to cross over to the same side of the river 
where the ducks were but was nearly a half mile from them 
and out of their sight on account of the bend in the river. 
I rowed into shore, slipped some shells into the pockets of 
my hunting coat, and drew the boat up on the bank safely. 
I had marked about where the flock was located by trees 
on the opposite bank, as the banks are heavily wooded on 
this part of the Des Plaines. 

Gi-oing back into the woods a sufficient distance I made a 
detour of about a quarter of a mile and came out again 
cautiously toward the river. 

Sure enough, there they were directly opposite me and I 
had gauged it about right. By being careful not to tread 
on any sticks to alarm them I gradually worked within 
about 35 yards of them, as near as I could estimate the 
distance. It is against my principles to take pot shots, and 
I rarely shoot a bird on the water, but the flock was so 
closely bunched together I could not resist shooting the first 
barrel at them on the water. 

I fired a shot at where they seemed to be gathered the 
thickest, and at the air appeared to be full of ducks at the 
report, I fired my second barrel into the midst of the bunch. 
There were seven or eight of the little beauties lying on 
the surface of the water and giving a few last spasmodic 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 63 

flutters of their wings and kicking their feet. The balance 
of the flock flew on up the river out of sight. 

There was hardly any current in the river at this point 
and the ducks lay where they had fallen, thirty-five or forty 
yards from shore and finally lay quiet. There were no 
wounded or wing-broken ones among them. 

Being in no hurry to retrieve them, as my boat was down 
stream and they would float towards it anyway, I reloaded 
my gun and stood on the river bank a few minutes. 

Glancing up the river, all at once I saw a flash of blue 
and white wings approaching me swiftly. A flock of teal 
were coining down the river at top speed and they were not 
apparently the same flock I had just fired at. I dropped 
down out of sight and they swung right in over the ducks 
lying on the water but did not seem to have any intention 
of stopping. They were within easy range, however, and I 
hastily got in both barrels in two cross-firing shots as they 
whizzed by me. There was a succession of splashes as a 
number of birds fell dead into the river near the others. 

I reloaded again and was about to start down to get my 
boat when a third flock came down the river and, my dead 
ducks perhaps acting somewhat as decoys, they swung 
over them and I had two more shots at fairly close range. 

When I came up with my boat to pick the ducks up and 
counted them I found that I had, including the three pre- 
viously killed, thirty-two blue- wing teal, all killed within the 
space of a half hour, and no cripples. 

Feeling somewhat guilty and thinking I had depopulated 
the duck family enough for one clay, J moved out into the 
stream and started down the river for home. 



64 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Passing of the Passenger Pigeon. 



On September 1, 1914, there died at the Cincinnati Zoo- 
logical Gardens, the last passenger pigeon in the world, so 
far as is known. S. A. Stephan, general manager of the 
Cincinnati Zoological Company, states that they originally 
had at the Gardens eight of these birds, of which the one 
here referred to was the last. 

The bird was sent to the Smithsonian Institution at 
Washington to be photographed, and later on was mounted. 
It is now on exhibition in the ornithological rooms of the 
National Museum. 

How sad it seems that this beautiful bird is now gone 
forever! Once countless thousands in numbers, darkening 
the sky in its flight, and now but a forgotten memory! 

One glorious October day, while hunting on the Illinois, I 
saw flock after flock of the passenger pigeons, coming from 
the North, each flock out of sight of the preceding one, and 
still following identically the same course in their flight. 

Stationing myself in the trees bordering the river bank, 
during the course of the afternoon I shot about fifteen of 
these handsome birds. At various other times I have seen 
and bagged quite a number. 

One of the peculiarities of the wild pigeon was that it 
would always alight in the tops of the tallest trees only, 
and invariably one destitute of leaves. 

The bird was never so plentiful in Illinois as in Michigan, 
Wisconsin, and other States with heavier timber. There is 
considerable resemblance between the passenger pigeon and 
the mourning dove, or turtle dove. Yet one bird has been 
exterminated and the other not. 




f ri] 




DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 65 

The Use of Decoys. 



And eastward where the river winds along, 

High up a pair of mallards wing their flight 

With outstretched necks and pinions fleet and strong. 

— Poems of Gun and Bod. 



When entering a lake, bayou or marsh where you are 
going to use your decoys, note where the largest number of 
ducks are located. That is the place to set out your decoys, 
because that is either their feeding ground or their favorite 
resort, provided they have not been previously disturbed, 
and have flown or swam out to the middle of the open 
water for safety. 

The more decoys you use the farther away the ducks 
can see them, and every hunter knows that ducks invariably 
prefer alighting where the largest number are assembled. 

A few years ago my brother and myself took 100 decoys 
on our hunting expeditions. At times we used them all in 
one flock and both shot from one stand. At other times we 
split them up into two flocks of 50 each and located some 
distance apart and got more birds in this manner. 

Some of the best shooting I have ever had I got over a 
flock of 20 or 25 decoys. Transporting a large number of 
decoys is sometimes considerable trouble and on the very 
stormy days, when the best shooting is to be had, ducks will 
come in quite as readily to a moderate sized flock. 

Always set your decoys somewhat scattered out with an 
open expanse in the middle and some tollers pretty well off 
to windward for deep-water ducks. You cannot have tollers 
very far away for mallards, for they are liable to alight 
out of range. 



66 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

While shooting over decoys, I have had several laughable 
experiences. On several occasions, when I have not been 
able to see them on account of an over-hanging bank, other 
hunters have almost blown my stools out of the water by a 
fusillade of shots. Their chagrin on discovering how they 
had been duped almost repaid me for the damage done. 

To illustrate the ideas of some hunters about decoys Long 
tells a little story. He said one Spring day he and his 
hunting partners were coming up the Illinois, and, being 
overtaken by a rain-storm, took refuge temporarily in a 
warehouse on the river-front of the town. Among other 
spectators and visitors was a sporting New Yorker, with 
the latest in the way of hunting costumes. In answer to 
their inquiry as to whether game was plenty, the New 
Yorker said, "Yes, there was plenty of ducks, but they 
were fearfully wild!" Asking him what kind of decoys he 
used he said he had mallards, redheads, butterballs, can- 
vasbacks, pintails and teal. A variety truly! In response 
to a further inquiry as to how many he had he said he had 
thirteen. They did not ask what the odd one was, being 
entirely satisfied as to why the ducks were so wild. Long 
and his partners subsequently found that the ducks decoyed 
very well to a good-sized flock of the proper proportions. 

In shooting from a sink-box or battery on Chesapeake 
Bay and the Great South Bay of Long Island from 300 to 
500 decoys are sometimes used. 

It is not necessary to have more than two kinds of de- 
coys. Mallard decoys for shoal-water ducks and canvasbacks 
for deep-water ducks. Bluebills and teal will decoy readily 
to either of these, as also do redheads. It is somewhat 
strange that although redheads and canvasbacks are so sim- 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 67 

ilar in their habits, still they do not associate. But they 
are both very often found nocking with bluebills. 

Do not use cheap decoys. The pride in having good de- 
coys is so great that the extra cost is not to be considered. 
The most artistic decoys I have seen are made by Elliston, 
at Lake Senachwine (Putnam, Illinois). Mr. Elliston has 
spent more than twenty-five years of his life making boats 
and decoys. 

Set out your decoys where the ducks ivish to feed. 

Long gives this as the great secret of success in shooting 
over decoys : Set your decoys so that the sun will shine on 
them from the side by which the ducks approach. 

On the Grand Old Illinois. 



Thou splendid river, widening through the meadows green. — Longfellow. 



To one who loves boating, hunting and fishing the Illinois 
River is a source of continual joy. It is indeed a splendid 
stream. The beautiful expanses of water afford many a 
pleasant prospect. The magnificent trees which line its 
banks, the many creeks which flow into at intervals of 
every few miles, the beautiful islands which dot its waters 
and are scattered throughout its whole length and also 
numerous adjoining lakes in the valley of the Illinois make 
it a paradise for one who loves Nature and outdoor life. 

What can be a more enjoyable outing than for a few 
choice spirits to journey along the Illinois, stopping each 



68 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

night to camp in the splendid adjoining woods, and be for 
the time veritable water gypsies? Traveling by land is not 
to be compared for real pleasure with traveling by water. 
Some people in this present-day mad rush of living prefer 
a motor-boat, but for myself give me an easy-running row- 
boat and a pair of oars. It is the finest exercise in the 
world and surely beneficial to health. 

I venture to say that no stream or body of water in 
America,, unless possibly the Chesapeake Bay, has furnished 
such splendid wild-fowl shooting as the Illinois River duck- 
ing grounds. Many a day have I rowed a boat 10 and 12 
miles and return in a day's trip, and sometimes even 15 
miles and return, hunting on the way. Traveling up or 
down the river I have traveled as much as 35 miles in a 
day. 

Among the towns noted for duck shooting in their neigh- 
borhood are Morris, Ottawa, De Pue, Hennepin, Henry, 
Lacon, Chillicothe, Rome, Liverpool, Havana, Browning, 
Beardstown, Meredosia, Naples and Kampsville. Except on 
the upper reaches of the river,, little shooting is done in the 
main channel, the birds frequenting the adjoining water 
along the river almost entirely. 

"I do not wonder that the old French voyageurs loved 
the Illinois River, and risked their lives and their fortunes 
gladly to visit and to dwell by it. The fascination that it 
had for La Salle, for Tonti, for Joliet, for Marquette, and 
for the countless explorers who frequented this trail to the 
Southwest, still lies upon it, waiting. Its clear water, its 
gentle current, its fretless channel, its green-clad, bordering 
hillsides, its fabulous grain fields, its forests, conspire to 
weave about the drifting traveler a spell which he is loath 
to break." — John L. Matthews. 




Live Mallard Decoys Calling in Mallards, Illinois River Country. 
Photo by Vincent Taylor, Chicago. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 69 

Old Times on the Green River Marshes. 



Last green that to the touch of Autumn yields, 
As o 'er the land her mystic spell she wields. 

— Rhymes of Stream and Forest. 



BY ROSS KINEE. 



I cannot tell just when I was inoculated with the insidious 
virus of the duck shooter ; it must have been at a very early 
date,, for I can remember, years and years ago it seems, of 
standing in the street, wooden toy gun in hand (we lived at 
the very edge of the village), watching the pintails, mal- 
lards and the brant, as they swung high overhead, paying 
no attention to my childish calls of "Bang!" "Bang!" as 
I loaded and fired that wooden gun in rapid pantomime. 
Swinging and drifting with the wind the ducks would come 
on their way to the famous Green River bottoms, their first 
stop after leaving the Blinois River marshes, on their way 
to their breeding ground in the Northland. 

Then down town of evenings I watched wide eyed the 
hunters coming in, backload after backload of ducks, ducks, 
ducks, and if it was of a Saturday night, and some of the 
old-timers from up river came to town, Kramer, Huslander, 
or the Dutro boys, it was a wagon load they brought of pin- 
tail, mallard, teal and widgeon, brant, and sometimes a few 
Canadas, or an occasional swan. Mallards brought 50 cents 
the pair those days, pintails and the smaller ducks 20 to 
30 cents. It was a sight to watch the sorting of the game, 
for few of those old-timers were not above trying to slip 
in a "pick-up" that had lain perhaps overlong and was 
altogether too ripe. 

"Pick-ups!" Why, I can remember one Fall when the 
river had gone on a rampage, all the cornfields skirting the 
river were under water, one Monday after an exceptionally 



70 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

bleak and windy Sunday, a friend of mine, taking his water 
spaniel, and by simply wading the overflowed fields, never 
firing a shot, he gathered and brought into town thirty- 
seven dead and crippled birds, the aftermath of the even- 
ing before. 

PASSING OF THE MARSHLAND. 

Philip came in the other day bringing with him four 
beautiful ears of corn. Spreading them out on the window 
ledge he said: "There! just look at that corn, raised right 
in the middle of what was St. Peter's marsh. I brought 
you those to show the boys what kind of crops could be 
raised right where you used to shoot ducks." 

"Huh!" as if I cared how much or how good corn was 
raised so long as they had ruined the best duck marsh in 
Illinois. Corn! all corn! Corn across the flat of Nower's 
pasture; corn where the muskrat houses were; corn crowd- 
ing in on the Meredosia's bed; corn on the Mud Creek bot- 
toms. Kismet! It is fate! 

Yesterday, only yesterday, I picked up the little 22 and 
leaving Rickel's store, I wandered north by west across the 
pasture land, along the deep "dredge ditch," until I came 
to that wooded island that used to lie, all marsh surrounded, 
in the center of the "big slough," the slough that used to 
run from the Green River to the Rock, with at the center a 
divide, the water of the southern slope sullen or rapid as 
the grade permitted, finally swelling the narrow and tor- 
tuous Green River; the other spinning to the north, plung- 
ing with a swirl into the Rock, at the mouth of the round 
bayou. Corn, all corn! I stood beneath the black oaks and 
looked toward the east, there where the cattails and rushes 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 71 

grew; there where Harry's "pump" failed him; there 
where the mallards, at sunset, swinging into roost left their 
toll as the little Parker called "Spang! spang! spat! 
spat!" you could hear those chilled 7's strike as the Dupont 
drove them home, "Two greenheads" and now, corn, all 
corn. North and westward, ah! that wild meadow on that 
April day, jack snipe after jack snipe, "scaiping" from the 
cover of fresh sprouting flag and smartweed. Again and 
again the 16-bore flashes to the shoulder, again and again 
the Dupont snaps out its challenge. "Gee!" what a dead 
center on that bird that hung for just a breath upwind. 

Corn, all corn! Southward to that bog emerald-studded 
pasture where on that April evening I lay prostrate along- 
side that little pool, my only blind a few dead weeds stuck 
here and there around me. "Querreck! querreck" chuckled 
my live decoys ' ' Querreck ! querreck ! come and lunch with 
me." "Now! well! of all the bling, blasted misses!" 

Corn, all corn! Corn where that pair of pintail met their 
fate. Corn, all corn, the length and breadth of the Green 
River marshes. Corn, all corn in the mucky beds of the 
Twin Lakes. "Kismet," why rail at fate! Oft times when 
my lusty brothers of the plow bewail the yearly and ever- 
increasing drouths, those continued, long-drawn out, sun- 
scorched summers, I say: "You have dredged and ditched 
and tiled too much. You cannot get the moisture from 
clouds over land that has no moisture." Then, those lusty 
square-shouldered fellows, who speak so learnedly of potash 
and of phosphate, of hill drop and powdered lime, laugh 
me to scorn and say: "Huh! if you had your way, all you 
would have would be a duck slough." Perhaps that, too, 
is true. 



72 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Mallard. 



The mallard is truly a splendid bird and one reason why 
he is so much admired is because it takes more skill to 
circumvent the wily fellow than it does some others of the 
duck family. 

When a flock of mallards are about to alight in a pond 
in the prairie or are coining into your decoys, they circle 
about countless times, inspecting the place from all sides 
to see if everything looks just right before dropping in. 

The mallard associates more or less with nearly all of 
the different varieties of non-diving ducks, probably with 
the pintail the most. 

In times gone by there has been a great deal of mallard 
shooting in little ponds in the corn-fields in the Spring, and 
at times the overflowed area along the great rivers has been 
quite extensive, and is a great resort of these birds, but 
now that we have prohibition of Spring shooting, there is 
an end to this so far as the duck hunter is concerned. 

The mallard's favorite habitat is little rush-surrounded 
ponds rather than stretches of open water. When these 
secluded ponds are frozen they then are driven to the larger 
expanses of adjoining lakes and rivers. 

The best mallard shooting is generally to be had in the 
most severe weather, as the birds will not leave as long as 
there is any open water, and during snow-storms and heavy 
wind-storms are the times when the best sport is to be had. 

The mallard responds to the call probably more readily 
than most any of the wild ducks. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 73 

Three Empty Shells— Three Mallard Ducks. 



Oh ! for a day in the white wind 's cheek, 
To share the mallard 's stroke of power ; 

To follow the rush of the upper air, 
And flying a hundred miles an hour. 

— A Day on the Yukon. 



It was in the early part of December and the Illinois was 
frozen over, but a number of successive warm days had 
melted the ice enough so that there were patches of open 
water here and there where the current was strongest and 
a few ducks still lingered after the general migration for 
the South of the main body of wild-fowl. 

It was not possible to ascend or descend the Illinois River 
in a boat, however, as there was only occasional expanses 
of the river which was not frozen. 

My brother Henry and I loaded our boat and decoys into 
a light wagon and with a good pair of horses drove up east 
of Morris about five miles and then drove south until we 
reached the river bank opposite Goose Island in the Illinois. 
There we unloaded the boat and decoys and then drove the 
team over to the nearest farmhouse and stabled them. 

Eeturning to our boat, we were able to cross over to the 
lower end of Goose Island by way of Stony Point, as there 
was a strip of open water leading over to the island at the 
lower end from the mainland. There was also open water 
along the south shore of the island and here we set out our 
decoy ducks about opposite the middle of the island. 

We had an occasional shot at a stray duck, but the main 
body of ducks seemed to have left for a warmer climate. 
Sometimes we would see a small flock of ducks over the 



74 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

great prairies southeast of ns, where some cattle were being 
fed corn to fatten them for the market. 

Finally, late in the afternoon my brother was prowling 
around among the willow trees on the other side of the 
island and had left me watching the decoys to take care of 
any stray ducks which might happen along. 

He had left his gun loaded and cocked, lying on the 
ground alongside me, while my own gun was lying across 
my knees, also loaded and cocked, as we had not begun to 
use hammerless guns at that time. 

Under the influence of the pleasant rays of the sun and 
being sheltered from the slight northerly wind that was 
blowing, I dropped into a light sleep. 

All at once I was awakened by hearing the rush of power- 
ful wings and looked up to see three mallard ducks climbing 
up and away from our decoys as fast as they could, going 
almost straight upward in the manner they always do when 
frightened. They had evidently alighted among the decoys 
without disturbing me, but soon became suspicious and 
frightened and the noise of their whirring wings as they 
arose into the air had awakened me. 

They were about 30 yards away in the air when I first 
saw them and were putting on the high speed without losing 
any time. 

I at once grabbed my gun, fired at the one nearest me, 
he dropped ; another shot and the next one dropped ; I seized 
my brother's gun, took aim and at the report of the gun 
the third and last one dropped, all of them being stone 
dead. I was somewhat doubtful about getting the last one, 
as he was a good distance away before I fired, but he suc- 
cumbed, falling like a wet rag. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 75 

Mallard Shooting in the Overflowed Timber. 



A river winding through the marsh. — Poems of Gun and Bod. 



The mallard is indeed a noble bird, but is very wary and 
cautious, and with extremely sharp vision and keen hearing. 
Timber mallard shooting in the overflowed woods bordering 
a river like the Illinois is fine sport and perhaps one then 
has these splendid birds at a disadvantage, for they have 
to come down through openings between the great oak and 
maple trees to your decoys set in an open place in the tim- 
ber and so cannot exercise their extreme vigilance so well. 

There is not so much timber shooting on the upper Illi- 
nois, but I once spent three weeks at Senachwine Lake, near 
Hennepin, Illinois, and shot in the overflowed timber every 
day. I usually killed from two to three dozen mallards each 
day. There are some experienced callers in that locality 
who can literally talk the duck language. It is well to use 
the caller almost continuously in timber shooting, because 
many times the ducks are within hearing distance although 
you cannot see them on account of the heavy, timber. Many 
of the hunters now use live callers around Henry, Chilli- 
cothe, Beardstown and other points on the Illinois. 

I have had some excellent timber mallard shooting in the 
Au Sable Creek timber five miles above Morris, Illinois, on 
the Illinois River. At times the weather was exceedingly 
severe and the birds were seeking the timber for shelter. 



76 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Prairie Chicken, or Pinnated Grouse. 



The prairie chicken or pinnated grouse is truly one of 
America's most splendid game birds, but is now threatened 
with extinction. There should be a closed season for a 
term of years in all States where there are any birds left, 
and this has been done by some of the States. 

There are still some prairie chickens to be found in Illi- 
nois, Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, and some of the other Middle 
Western States, but the best shooting is now to be had in 
Minnesota, Montana, the Dakotas and the Northwest. 

The dividing up of large farms into smaller ones and the 
converting of prairie lands into corn-fields has had much 
to do with the decrease of prairie chickens in the Middle 
Western States for the prairie chicken does not follow 
civilization but retreats from it. 

They thrive best where there are large tracts of prairie 
with corn and oat fields adjoining. Although an upland 
bird they love to frequent meadows where there is long, 
coarse grass for cover, very often bordering ponds. 

The prairie chicken can endure extreme cold weather and 
does not usually migrate at the approach of winter. 

During the early part of the season the hunting is done 
mostly in stubble-fields morning and evening over dogs. 
Later on in October and November they frequent the corn- 
fields and are not very easy to bag while the corn is still 
standing, that is, unhusked. I have always found them very 
regular and methodical in their habits, visiting certain fields 
daily at about the same hour. 

Late in the Fall the birds are very strong on the wing 
because the young are then fully matured. 



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DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 77 

A Shot at a Prairie Chicken. 



She was up and away, 

Like a rifle-smoke 
Blown through the woods, 

That lingers a moment, 
But never to stay. 

— Bret Harte. 



BY ROSS KINEE, 



From over the hill where the sun is setting there comes 
some specks of brown, now clear cut against the orange of 
the western sky, now fading, indistinct, among the hillside 
shadows, then plunging into view and volplaning they settle 
within ten yards of me. "Chickens!" I dare not move. 
Slowly, warily, an old cock bird approaches down the ditch 
bank, cocking his head from side to side, he stalks closer, 
closer. "Just a log," he is saying to himself, "Just a log." 
"I ain't afraid." Then the strain becoming more than I 
can bear, I turn my head the very teeniest trifle, a brown 
shell explodes upon the ditch's bank, another and another. 
"Why didn't you bust a pair!" Scrub asks as I rejoin him. 
"What! Chickens in the Spring!" "Sure," he replies. 
"Why not! Just as well chickens as ducks. What's the 
difference!" On that I ponder all the long moonlit home- 
ward way. "Just as well chickens as ducks in the Spring." 
What is the difference! 



78 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

A Duck Hunt in Louisiana. 



Through canebrakes dense and cypress woods, 
That darkened each remote lagoon, 
Or bayou hid in solitudes. 

— Isaac McLellan. 



BY H. M. WIDDOWSON. 



One evening, while walking down Canal Street, in the old 
town of New Orleans,, I espied a party of hunters with their 
hunting-coat pockets bulging out, and showing other signs of 
having made a successful bag. Was I interested! Oh, no! 
Interested would not be the word at all. I was "infected" 
on sight with the hunting fever. I had heard that the ducks 
had arrived from the North, and the sight of those guns 
and those bulging pockets and mud-stained hunting togs 
"got my goat." I just had to go hunting, and that was 
all there was to it. So, of course, I had to find out where 
to go and how to get there, as I had never hunted in a 
locality so far south before. 

Next day I got real busy, finding out among my friends 
and acquaintances where to go and who wanted to go with 
me, and before night had found two other "bugs" as badly 
bitten as myself. Here are their names: Fish and Hunt. 
This may seem a little strange, but it is fact, for all that. 
Fish was purchasing agent for the Morgan Line Steamship 
Company and Hunt was a real estate man. The three of us 
boarded at the same house in St. Charles Street, near La- 
Fayette Square. So we arranged to start on the following 
afternoon. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 79 

For duck guns, Fish had a fine made-to-order Winchester 
repeater, with 30-inch barrel; Hunt carried a beautiful Fox 
double gun. I had an old-time English double-barrel cylin- 
der-bore gun, with 27-inch barrels, and was guyed all the 
way out on the train about trying to shoot mallards and 
other large ducks, with their winter plumage on, with a 
little cylinder-bore " sawed-off. " 

Our destination was "Lake Catherine," a small lake along 
the Louisville & Nashville Railway, between New Orleans 
and Pass Christian, Mississippi. The whole country along 
the railroad is more or less a flat sheet of water, and low 
ground just a few inches above water — a regular Ducks' 
Paradise. 

We arrived at the station in time for supper, and "such 
a supper!" I never will forget it! We found lodgings with 
a French "Cayjan" (Arcadian) by the name of Joe. He 
and his good wife made a business of catering to hunters 
and fishermen — and they surely knew their business. Their 
house stood on stilts, and was simply a large, rough board 
shack, but everything (beds included) was spotlessly clean 
and neat. The supper consisted of crab gumbo soup, 
"craw-fish" (French style), boiled rice, Mexican frijoles, 
corn pone, fried plaintains, hot biscuits, baked pampano, 
and French drip coffee "that would do for ink." Was it 
strong? Yes, it was! — and it's the kind I like. 

The last thing before going to bed we told Joe to get us 
up in time to be in our blinds by daylight. "Nevaire mind, 
you faller! By gar, Ah been here long taim, an' I know my 
beez. You do laik Joe say an' you geet beeg duck — plenty 
duck! Plenty mud-hen, mabbe! You laik mud-hen? No!" 

The next thing I remembered, after going to sleep, was 



80 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Joe's lighting a candle and bringing in a steaming pot of 
his famous coffee and a can of condensed cream. While we 
drank our coffee, Joe told us the pirogues were all ready, 
with decoys, paddles, push poles and everything fixed, ready 
to start. "By gar, Ah t'ink Ah go 'long. You t'ree fine 
faller! You-all Yankee, enty? You-all know how push 
pirogue ? No ! ' ' 

Breakfast over, we took the four pirogues and started. 
Hunt and Fish had been in all kinds of boats, but a pirogue 
was new to them. They were good swimmers, however, so 
they did not hesitate to tackle them. A pirogue is simply a 
dugout canoe, made out of a cypress log; about 28 or 30 
inches wide and some 15 feet long, and much more cranky 
than any birchbark canoe. In fact, a factory-built canoe is 
like a flat-boat for steadiness, as compared with a genuine 
Louisiana pirogue. 

Joe took the lead and we started. For a while we were 
not sure that we were all going to stay on the upper side of 
those dugouts. I felt pretty much at home in mine, which 
was the smallest one in the lot, as I had been paddling 
canoes since I was a kid, but Fish and Hunt kept guying 
each other and offering to make bets as to which one would 
get dumped first. 

It was well for us that Joe came along for we would never 
have been able to find our way to the shooting "pass." 
We paddled through all kinds of lanes among small islands 
which were covered with tall reeds and grass, and in less 
than fifteen minutes I did not know where we were. The 
whole place looked alike to me, and it was so dark that I 
could hardly see the dugout in front of me. I was in the 
rear, Joe in the lead, Fish and Hunt between us, but in 




Headwaters of the Illinois River. Junction of the Kankakee and Des Plaines. 
Photo from Dresden Heights at an altitude of 200 feet. By W. M. Lyon. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 81 

these waters it makes no difference how dark the night is; 
every stroke of the paddle makes a blaze of silvery phos- 
phorescent light, which lights np the man in the canoe so 
that he can be seen, unless the paddle be dipped very care- 
fully. 

Now and then a bunch of coots would go napping away 
from in front of us, leaving a trail of light, as they partly 
ran and partly flew on the surface of the .phosphorescent 
water, and every fish (except the one in the canoe!) would 
leave a fiery wake behind him, when disturbed by the dug- 
outs. 

Arriving at the blinds without mishap, Joe stationed us 
at different points around a small island which was simply 
a quaking mud bar a few inches above the water, with grass 
and reeds growing on it. It was a pass or fly-way between 
Lake Ponchartrain and Mississippi Sound, which empties 
into the Gulf of Mexico. While sitting in my pirogue I 
recalled the lines of Coleridge's Ancient Mariner: 

Water ! Water ! everywhere, 
And not a drop to drink! 

But Joe had fixed that. He had put a bottle of water in 
each dugout, as the water in these passes is all salt— in- 
cluding that of Lake Ponchartrain. 

Joe had warned us not to shoot before broad daylight (as 
that is the law in Louisiana) ; also we must stop shooting at 
noon. I sat there and pointed my gun at several flocks of 
mallards and could have gotten several of them, but I had 
to wait till daylight. Fish was stationed to my right, just 
out of gun range, and Hunt the same distance to my left. 
Joe was stationed on the far side of the pass, but within 
sight of us. Fish was the first to score. I was watching a 
flock of redheads headed my way, when Fish began work- 



82 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

ing his pump gun into a bunch of mallards. I looked 
around and saw two of them come tumbling down and 
one already flopping on the water. "Hooray!" says Fish. 
"Do you think that your old sawed-off gun would do that?" 
But I was real busy just then, as two of the same bunch 
swung over me, and I got them both with a quick right and 
left, making a clean kill with each shot. When I looked 
around again, there was Fish, up to his middle in the water, 
towing his capsized dugout to shore — calling to me to come 
over and help him and cursing the first Indian or white 
man that ever made a canoe out of a log. 

While I was helping Fish get his boots off and the water 
out of them, Joe and Hunt were banging away at the ducks. 
Finally, Fish was in shape to shoot; so I went back to my 
dugout, and soon had three redheads and five small ducks 
similar to our bluebills (I forget their local name). By this 
time the flight was over, and Fish had started for the house, 
as he was wet and cold and the little bottle I had given him 
was empty. Joe and Hunt knocked over a few mud-hens, 
and then they started back — leaving me still in my "blind" 
(if a few long reeds and bunches of grass can be called a 
blind). Joe called to me and said: "Don't forget to stop 
shoot at 10 o'clock, or you geet our Game Warden down 
here mighty queek!" 

After they were gone, I got a pair of green-wing teal 
that came to my decoys; then started back, hunting mud- 
hens on the way, and arrived at Joe's shack at 12:30 with 
two mallards, a pair of teal, three redheads and five com- 
mon ducks, and more than that many coots or mud-hens. 
Fish and Hunt had seventeen ducks between them and a 
big bunch of mud-hens. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 83 

When we had changed our clothes and cleaned our gams 
and ourselves, dinner was ready. I had been " sniffing" 
garlic and onions and stewed duck from the time I sighted 
the house on my way in, and I tell you, it was "some 
smell" to a lot of hungry duck hunters. But I nearly for- 
got. When Fish got back to the shack, Joe's wife gave him 
some of Joe's clothes, so that she could dry Fish's clothes 
before the fire, and maybe he was not a comical sight. Joe 
was about 5 feet 4 inches in height, and Fish was about 6 
feet 3; so you can imagine how he looked. 

Dinner? You should have been there and seen us eat! 
Better still, you should have helped us eat it. Roast ducks, 
baked sweet potatoes, stewed oysters (from Bayou Bara- 
taria), shrimps, stuffed crabs, hot biscuits with cane syrup, 
and some more of that French coffee. That meal would 
have cost us $3 each at a New Orleans hotel, and not been 
one-half so appetizing, and I forgot to mention a dish of 
stewed mud-hen with plenty of garlic and onions, celery 
and parsley. It was the best dish on the table. Everything 
was cooked in genuine French Creole style. 

After dinner we smoked some cigars, had a good chat 
with Joe and his wife, and late in the afternoon we boarded 
our train for home, where we arrived in time for a late 
supper. We had enough ducks to supply the table of our 
landlady for several days; but we all agreed that Joe's wife 
was the best cook of them all. — Sports Afield. 



84 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Wood Duck. 



Wood ducks are the most graceful of any of the wild 
ducks, and have most strange nocturnal habits, nightly 
visiting every stretch of water along the wooded streams 
and ponds for miles around their habitat. They also make 
a flight nearly every afternoon to some adjoining stream 
or lake, always preferring those surrounded by timber. 
They do not pay much attention to decoys, but sometimes 
will fly by the blind within gunshot. 

I have reason to believe that they return to the same 
locality to nest each successive season. Of all ducks, the 
beautiful wood duck should certainly be given protection. 

Wallace Evans has both the wood duck and the mandarin 
duck of china in his large collection of game birds at his 
preserve at St. Charles and I have had an opportunity to 
compare their plumage. Of course I slightly favor the na- 
tive bird as a matter of patriotism. Each bird is beautiful 
in a different way in the same manner that one flower is 
handsome and another one equally so. The plumage of the 
mandarin duck is a blending of different shades of brown, 
while the wood duck's general coloring is mostly of darker 
tints. 

The wood duck is a very swift flier and on occasion can 
go through the timber at a high speed when flushed along- 
some wooded stream. 

They love to frequent bends in the rivers and creeks 
rather than straight stretches of the streams and usually 
nest in trees. 

I stopped shooting wood, ducks in the Spring twenty-five 
years ago and advised other hunters to do likewise. 



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DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 85 

On the Habits of Various Varieties of Water-Fowl. 



By Gardiner 's and by Shelter Isle, 
Far out on sandy bar and shoal, 

These swarming water-fowl disport, 
Wherever salty billows roll. 

— Isaac McLellan. 



Wild ducks are marvelously swift and true fliers. The 
canvasback has been called the swiftest flier of the duck 
family, but the redhead, bluebill, green and blue-wing teal 
as nearly as swift. While the mallard is comparatively 
slow in flight, they describe many beautiful curves and gyra- 
tions in alighting. In spring-time, when the bottom lands 
are flooded, they will come down through openings between 
the great oak trees in a nearly perpendicular line. 

The habits of the mallard are different from those of the 
redhead or canvasback, those of the blue-wing or green-wing 
teal are different from those of the wood duck, and those of 
the bluebill are different from the pintail or goldeneye. 

Wild ducks may be divided into two classes, deep-water 
ducks and shoal-water ducks. The first named dive for their 
food. The latter do not. When wounded, shoal-water ducks 
go upon land at once, and seek to hide in the rushes or 
brush. Deep-water ducks never go upon land and seek to 
escape by swimming and diving. The deep-water ducks in- 
clude bluebills, redheads, canvasbacks, goldeneyes, and sev- 
eral smaller varieties; the shoal-water ducks are mallards, 
pintails, blue and green-wing teal, wood ducks, widgeons 
or bald-pates, gadwalls, etc. 



OD DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Big bags of ducks are a thing of the past now, which is 
as it should be. The amount of game secured should be a 
secondary consideration to all true sportsmen ; the chief 
pleasure should be that of enjoying the benefits of outdoor 
life. 

Nowadays if a hunter secures a few ducks he should be 
satisfied. One day last October on a day's hunt I bagged 
eight blue-wing teal and had as much pleasure as if it were 
a much larger number. I had the pleasure of being out in 
the glorious Autumn weather and I had a grand trip on the 
old Illinois. I would have enjoyed it if I had not shot any 
ducks. 

All deep-water ducks always rise against the wind. By 
taking advantage of this fact and approaching them with 
the wind at your back, if the flock is a small one, very 
often you can row near enough to get a good shot, as they 
hesitate about coming towards you until it is too late and 
you are within range of them as they rise. 

During considerable hunting on the Platte and Missouri 
Rivers I was surprised to find how much more plentiful the 
spoonbill was there than farther east. They never afford a 
great deal of sport to the hunter at any time, however. 

On some days when the ducks are not moving about much, 
one can get considerable sport by rowing along a river that 
is fringed by willow trees and rushes and shooting the 
ducks as they fly away from shore at your approach. They 
are usually on the wing before you discover them. Also at 
times one can have similar sport by walking along the 
edges of ponds where there are rushes, pond-lilies and other 
aquatic plants by which the birds are concealed until you 
are within gun-shot as they take wing. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 87 

One of America's Most Famous Duck Hunters. 



Although there have been and are now many crack duck 
shots in various parts of the country, I consider the late 
Fred Kimble, of Peoria, Illinois, was the star duck hunter 
of the country. He did much hunting on the Illinois River 
in localities where game was very plentiful. In company 
with Joseph W. Long he made several trips down the Illi- 
nois in the Fall, thence down the Mississippi to the sunk 
lands of Arkansas and Missouri (caused by the earthquake 
of 1812), hunting on the way, and spending the winter near 
New Madrid, Mo., and shooting during the Spring flight . 
north in the Spring. On numerous occasions Kimble has 
killed over 100 ducks in a day. His shooting was done in 
the 70 's, '80 's and '90 's. Of course game was much more 
plentiful then than now and there was no bag limit. 

Kimble had a single-barrel 8-gauge gun in which he shot 
an ounce and a half of shot, and John Forsyth, formerly 
agent of the Adams Express Company at Peoria, told me 
he had seen Kimble make 100 consecutive shots at ducks 
in one day, not missing a shot. He killed over 100 ducks, 
because numberless times he killed several at a discharge. 

Joseph W. Long, Kimble's hunting partner on several 
duck-hunting expeditions, said any duck that came within 
gunshot of Fred Kimble, would save trouble by coming- 
down at once. 

I have seen Kimble do considerable pigeon shooting at 
the traps, but no duck shooting. R. B. Organ, of Chicago, 
offered to match him to shoot with Dr. Carver at 100 live 
pigeons, 30 yards rise, use of one barrel, and posted a for- 
feit, but Carver would not accept. 



00 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The following is an account of his duck shooting taken 
from J. W. Long's American Wild-Fowl! Shooting: 

DUCK SHOOTING DONE BY FEED KIMBLE. 

I subjoin a memorandum of shooting done by a friend of 
the author, Mr. Fred Kimble, a genuine duck shooter, dur- 
ing the spring of 1872, all with a single-barreled muzzle- 
loader, 9 gauge. Not over three ducks were killed at any 
one shot, and most all singly. 

February 27 killed 70 ducks. 
a 

i i 
March 



28 


i i 


74 " 


29 


i i 


81 " 


1 


t i 


76 " 


2 


i i 


106 " 


3 


t i 


61 u 


4 


didn 't 


shoot. 


5 


killed 


66 ducks 


6 


t i 


107 " 


7 


a 


57 " 


8 


i i 


65 " 


9 


a 


82 " 


10 


i t 


60 " 


11 


i i 


72 " 


12 


a 


128 " 


13 


didn't 


shoot. 


14 


killed 


122 ducks 


15 


i i 


70 " 


16 


a 


68 " 



Total 1365 " 

Total 1365 ducks, 17 days' shooting, and 5 brant not in- 
cluded in the memorandum. His ammunition gave out al- 
most every day. These ducks were nearly all mallards. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 89 

A Stormy Crossing On the Illinois. 



Death frowns o 'er the foaming flood. — Thomas Gray. 



The March wind had been blowing a gale for three days 
from the northwest, with occasional snow and a low ther- 
mometer. The Illinois River was several feet above the 
ordinary stage of water but was not out of its banks, which 
made it more dangerous to navigate, as when the banks are 
overflowed a person can row along back of the trees which 
line the river-bank and be out of the main channel of the 
river and of course the waves are much smaller there. 

After remaining at home two days on account of the 
storm my brother Gussie and I on the third day could not 
stand the pressure of seeing flocks of mallards flying back 
and forth on Mazon Creek across from and above Morris, 
and determined to get over there with a boat and our de- 
coy ducks. It was useless to try and go any distance on 
the river as no headway could be made at all going against 
the wind and heavy sea. The mountainous waves were 
dashing up against the south bank of the river with such 
great force and the spray was freezing onto the trees and 
bank where it struck. 

How to cross the river without capsizing in the icy water 
was the problem. The Mazon empties into the Illinois just 
above the bridge crossing the river at Morris. We decided 
it was too dangerous to try and cross the river at that 
point. Then we thought we would carry our boat across 
the bridge on foot and then try and ascend the river the 
short distance to the mouth of the creek. But after walk- 



90 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

ing across the bridge and noting the sea that was running 
on the south shore we gave up that idea. 

Finally we thought we would try and cross the river at 
Antis' Island, which is a small island just above Morris 
and located nearly in the middle of the river. Loading our 
decoys into the boat we started out. After crossing safely 
over to the island from the north shore, we set out on the 
last half and more dangerous part of the journey. Our boat 
rode the waves very gallantly and the spray from the crest 
of the waves froze on our hunting coats where it struck us. 
When we neared the shore a big wave carried us right up 
on the bank. We sprang out and drew the boat up out of 
reach of any succeeding waves. We then dragged the boat 
across the corn-field a couple of hundred yards and reached 
the Mazon, where we set out our decoys and by 5 p. m. we 
had shot about twenty-five mallards and a half dozen teal. 

At is was nearing sundown the wind began to die down 
considerable and we descended the Mazon to the Illinois 
and crossed the river safely and reached home about 6 p. m. 
none the worse for our adventure, and thankful for our 
victory over the elements and safe return, as we were the 
only ones who ventured out on the river that day. 

The Reelfoot Lake basin at twilight, when the screech- 
owls are quavering out their lost-soul dirges in the gather- 
ing gloom, is one of the most desolate places on earth. 
Above us the scudding clouds hid the face of the moon and 
arched in flying columns that eerie graveyard of tree-snags 
and owls. — Robert Lindsay Mason. 



^» > 

L> > 

rTfD f 

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DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 91 

The Gadwall, or Gray Duck. 



Less is probably known about the gadwall than almost 
any of our water-fowl that inhabit the interior of North 
America. 

I have sometimes read of them being seen in large num- 
bers in the far North, and the Dakotas, especially on their 
breeding grounds, but for myself I cannot say that I have 
ever seen them plentiful. Generally I have only observed 
small flocks and more often a single bird or a pair. 

Mr. Ridgway, the ornithologist, states that he found them 
more numerous than all other varieties of ducks during the 
breeding season in Western Nevada, in the valley of the 
Truckee River. 

They frequent Currituck and Albemarle Sounds to some 
extent during the Winter, though in moderate numbers. 

There seems to be something mysterious and almost un- 
canny about the gadwall. A number of times I have flushed 
a gadwall some distance from the water from the coarse 
grass bordering a river or lake. The bird was not wounded 
in any way, but seemed to prefer his hermit existence, and 
to be just as well satisfied to be a greater distance from 
the water than most members of the duck family. 

The gadwall loves to frequent shallow lakes and ponds, 
and its habits generally resemble those of the mallard. 

During the middle of the day they like to hide away in 
the tall marsh grass to rest or sleep. 

There are several things about the gadwall that remind 
one of the widgeon and they seem to be a sort of second 
cousin to that bird and often a few gadwalls will be found 
with a large flock of widgeons. 



92 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Memories of Other Days. 



Where among the water-lilies 
Pishnekuh, the brant, were sailing; 
Through the tufts of rushes floating, 
Steering through the reedy islands. 

— Longfellow. 



BY P. C. DARBY. 



The soft March winds have been blowing from the south 
and the snow has all turned to water, the ponds and low 
places are all filled up. The sprigs and mallards are in 
their glory, with scarcely anyone to disturb them in their 
revelry. Have rarely seen so many mallards so early 
in the season. It brings back memories of other Springs 
long ago when I was in the blind with some of my boyhood 
hunting companions when the March winds were blowing 
strong and ducks were beating up against it, of the pretty 
kills and the unaccountable misses we made. It was the 
kills we remembered the longest, however, and not the ones 
that got away. 

Our children will never know the beauty of the March 
days of marsh and stream, as we knew them; and how we 
looked forward to the first .signs of the coming of the ducks 
in the Spring. When I was a boy, before I could shoot a 
gun, I have watched them pass by the hour, and longed for 
the time when I would be old enough to go hunting. 

As I sit here, my mind wanders back over the years that 
have gone ; of the pleasant days spent with the game birds, 
Nature and some good companions. As we grow older, 
time cannot erase these bright spots from our memory. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 93 

Today brings back to me the memory of a March day 
five years ago. The wind was strong from the south and 
it looked like a storm. A boy who was cutting stalks over 
in a field near a little pond came running up to where I 
was and told me that a flock of geese had just alighted in 
the pond. I made preparations to go goose hunting at once, 
taking my Winchester shot gun. My little brother, who was 
only 14 years old, went along and carried the Parker. 

We crawled up as close to the pond as we could, and up 
they went, about 40 yards away from us. There were 
fifteen in the flock. My brother beat me to it and downed 
three. Then I proceeded to get busy, and accounted for 
six more, which made us nine in all. And such a load for 
the two of us to carry, but you know. We gave the boy 
who told us about them one and I don't think he ever 
stopped until he arrived at his home. He did not cut any 
more stalks, anyway, that day, he was so excited. 

What delightful recollections an autumn sunset sometimes 
recalls! Were you ever in the marsh when the sun was 
setting, tinging the western sky with a rose-tinted glow, 
and ducks were coming to your decoys with great regu- 
larity? Far to the west the ducks are moving in great 
clouds in their evening flight, and dropping into the marsh 
with reckless abandon are mallards, widgeons, pintails, red- 
heads, and now and then a flock of canvasbacks. A pair 
have stolen away from the many, and with silent flight are 
coining down the marsh skimmering the rush tips, until 
they see a flock of decoys, then they make a wide circuit so 
as to alight upwind among them. — William Bruce Lejfing- 
iv ell. 



94 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Redhead. 



The redhead is one of our best wild-fowl and is found to 
some extent, at least, on most of the ducking waters of the 
United States. Being a diving duck, it prefers the open 
waters to the smaller ponds and sloughs. 

Some hunters think the redhead is becoming more scarce. 
However that may be, Mr. Herbert K. Job states that he 
found a larger number of eggs in the nest of the redhead 
than in that of any of our wild ducks in the far North. 

Bedheads have a habit of flying up and down the bodies 
of water which they frequent in large flocks mornings and 
evenings, generally well up in the air, and I have at times 
seen flocks of redheads that would extend across the entire 
main channel of the Illinois. I have also seen them in 
large number on the Missouri River. 

Redheads fly closely together and generally in perfect 
alignment. When the hunter gets a cross-firing shot some- 
times several are killed at a discharge. 

In its habits the redhead greatly resembles the bluebill, 
and they associate together considerable. It decoys quite 
as well as the bluebill, especially on their feeding grounds. 

The redhead has the habit of flying by just outside of 
your decoys, apparently not seeing them, and then after 
they have got just beyond you, suddenly turning back and 
coining into the decoys. They are not nearly so suspicious 
as canvasbacks. 

This bird frequents salt water as well as fresh, and is 
greatly esteemed by Eastern and Southern gunners on the 
sea coasts. The flesh of the redhead is excellent. 



a 

L. >• 




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DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 95 

The Wild Goose Who Lost His Bearings. 



And in flocks the wild goose, Wawa, 
Flying to the fen-lands northward. 

— Longfellow. 



Many times I have observed that when a wild goose or 
brant becomes separated from a flock and sort of lives to 
himself, as it were, he loses the extreme caution which these 
wary birds usually possess. I have killed quite a number 
of these solitary birds, both geese and brant, during my 
career as a hunter, and always in some unusual manner. 

In company with my brother I have hunted wild geese 
considerable in Illinois, but have been much more successful 
in hunting them on the Platte and Missouri Rivers in Ne- 
braska. There they fly back and forth from the fields to 
the sand bars on the rivers, which are a favorite resort of 
wild geese. One of our successful methods was to locate a 
flock some distance below us on the river and then float 
down in our boat, not using the oars at all, as the Missouri 
has a strong current in most places. 

But this goose was shot on the Kankakee under some- 
what unusual circumstances. My brother and myself were 
coming up the river one day in late November and the wind 
was blowing a gale. The river at this point flows north 
and the wind was from the west and had a clear sweep 
across the prairies for several miles. 



96 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

We had seen a number of flocks of wild geese flying over 
these prairies to the west of us and finally we saw a flock 
coming straight toward us, but high in the air. They were 
perhaps a half mile away when we first saw them. How- 
ever, if they did not change their course they would pass 
directly over us and we hurriedly rowed our boat to shore 
and ran to the top of the bank before they could see us 
and awaited their approach. 

They came over our heads, but at such a height that it 
seemed almost useless to shoot at them. However, we fired 
four shots into them at long range and at the report of 
our guns one came down lifeless. Another bird was either 
struck in the body or utterly bewildered, for he sailed down 
from the balance of the flock and alighted in the middle of 
the river half a mile away and set there with his head in 
the air evidently trying to figure out where he was. The 
rest of the flock had passed out of sight with many clamor- 
ings. 

Finally the solitary goose arose and started up the middle 
of the river. When he had gone a short distance he ap- 
peared to change his mind and thought he would cross over 
to the prairies west again. But as he tried to cross over 
the strong wind striking him caused him to drift out over 
the river and he was gradually coming nearer to us. He 
had apparently forgotten- where we were located, although 
he could see us plainly enough when he was sitting in the 
center of the river. He was determined to cross over to the 
west to the prairies, however, and finally came over our 
heads not 30 yards high. Two guns sounded as one report 
and he fell stone dead. Had he flown to any other point 
of the compass it would have been safe for him and there 
he came right back into the danger zone and death for him! 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 97 

Camping Along the Illinois in "the Good Old Days." 



Home by the river's rippled sheen. — Longfellotv. 



What camp-fires roared along the Illinois in those days! 
It saddens me to think that those days will come no more 
for me. Driftwood piled as high as we could throw it, shot 
a glare across the river until the dead cottonwoods looked 
like imploring ghosts with arms stretched heavenward, and 
we could almost see the white collars on the necks of the 
geese that passed high above us. Bunches of mallards, 
wood ducks, sprigtails, etc., hung about the fire, with every 
color glowing brightly as in the evening sun, and naught 
w T as needed save a string of trout or a deer to make the 
scene complete. 

Little did I hear of the song or the jest or the laughter 
that almost woke the echoes from the eastern bluffs. The 
walls of that dark rotunda beyond the fire were for me full 
hung with the brightest scenes of the new life I had now 
entered, and they drew with them by association all those 
that I had passed through before. There, again, was the 
bright sky, swept by long strings of whizzing life, widening 
out and streaming toward me in swift descent. There, 
again, was the stately mallard, or more gorgeous wood 
duck, relaxing his hold on air and falling a whirl of bril- 
liant colors, or the wary old goose, with drooping neck and 
folded wing, coining to earth with an impetuous crash. 

Succeeding years have hung many a new picture in the 
memories that surround the camp-fire; but none of them, 
in all the freshness of youth, shines with more brilliancy 
than still through the mist of years shine around the camp- 
fires on the Illinois. — T. S. Van Dyke. 



98 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Sora Rail, or Ortolan. 



The various species of rails are most interesting and 
curious birds, and I have included pictures of three dif- 
ferent varieties in this book. There is also the Virginia 
and the yellow rail. 

As the sora is the best known, I will refer here more 
particularly to it. 

In what is known as "Tide-water" Virginia, and those 
portions of Maryland adjacent to Chesapeake Bay, they are 
more commonly known as "sora," while still further south 
"rail" is their general name. 

Strange to say, there has been much mystery attached 
to these little game birds. 

A map of the entire continent is required to trace the 
migrations of the sora rail. Briefly stated, it may be said 
that its range is from the northern shore of Hudson Bay 
to Peru, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Further still, 
in fact, for its flights extend to the West Indies. 

The Biological Survey records that in two successive days 
two hunters bagged 1,235 sora. This bag has certainly 
been exceeded by Washington sportsmen on the marshes 
of the Potomac and Patuxent Rivers. There are men in 
Washington today who have killed over 300 on one tide. 

To sportsmen who have seen them in the short, awkward 
little flights they make while flying on the marshes, it would 
seem almost beyond belief that in their Fall and Spring 
migrations they travel as far as 3,000 miles. 






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DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 99 

On the Migration of Wild-Fowl. 



Presently, from far along the dark heights of the sky, came voices, hollow, 
musical, confused. It hinted of wide distances voyaged on tireless wings, of a 
tropic winter passed in feeding amid remote, high-watered meadows of Mexico 
and Texas, of long flights yet to go, toward the rocky tarns of Labrador and 
the reed-beds of Ungava. — Charles G. D. Roberts. 



The migrations of birds, if studied closely, at once sur- 
prise and astonish us. The marvelous sagacity which en- 
ables them to foresee the seasons, the conditions of the 
atmosphere and the direction which they have to travel are 
wonderful. 

Man achieves long land and sea voyages by the aid of 
steam and air ships, directs his course over the trackless 
ocean by means of the sextant and compass, the calendar 
warns him of approaching winter, and storms and cold are 
foretold by the barometer and thermometer. But the bird, 
without any of these appliances, makes long voyages, di- 
recting itself unerringly to a point thousands of miles 
distant. 

Rapidity of flight is the essential attribute of the bird. 
Nature has concentrated in this faculty all its muscular 
force. 

To great powers of flight the bird adds a keenness of 
vision which enables it to survey the vast horizon which it 
looks down upon and to direct its course by distant objects 
with the utmost precision. The naturalist Buffon declared 
that the powers of sight possessed by high-flying birds is 
at least twenty times greater than that of man. 



100 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

It is true that some, varieties of ducks on migrating in 
the Fall from the North pass through to the Southern re- 
sorts of the wild-fowl without stopping hardly at all. Other 
kinds stop more or less on the way, and it is these par- 
ticular species that give us our Fall shooting. This ex- 
plains why some varieties of ducks are plentiful in the 
Spring and scarce in the Fall. In the Fall they did not 
stop on their migration until reaching Southern waters. 

It is remarkable what distances wild ducks cover in their 
migrations. With the exception of the wood duck, which 
nests in Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin and all of the Middle 
and Western States, most other varieties of wild ducks 
nest north of the northern boundaries of the United States. 
They cover in their peregrinations from Saskatchewan, 
Alberta and the far North to Florida, Texas and the States 
bordering on the Gulf of Mexico. 

Formerly many of the wild-fowl bred in great numbers 
in the United States, in all the more northerly States, as 
Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, the Dakotas, Montana, 
Wyoming and Idaho, but the continual persecution to which 
they have been subjected has driven them north beyond 
the confines of the United States in self-preservation. 

The Illinois Eiver and adjoining lakes and streams has 
always been a favored and famous resort of wild-fowl and 
I have seen "travelers," i. e., ducks making the long migra- 
tory flight North in the Spring and very often high in the 
air, on reaching the Illinois, would descend in great spirals, 
with many joyous quackings, as if to say, "Here is our 
home and haven of rest at last!" 

"One of the fine coastwise sights in New England is the 
spring flight of the eider ducks. During the early days of 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 101 

April, a mile or two off the Chatham bars, I have seen long 
lines of them, coming all the time, pass on their way north. 
Each flock is led b}^ a male — a striking creature with his 
white back, black under parts, and greenish head. The 
brown females alternate with the males more or less irregu- 
larly, and the string of the large, swiftly moving fowl, fifty 
to a hundred or more in number, is an impressive sight." 
— Herbert K. Job. 

How long a time wild-fowl stop at various points on their 
migratory journeys depends on the weather and also of 
course on how much they are disturbed. If the weather 
is stormy and cold they remain sufficiently long until the 
weather becomes more moderate and their instinct tells them 
to push on North for the nesting season. As a matter of 
fact, most varieties of wild-fowl can withstand extremely 
cold weather. In the Fall they remain usually as long as 
there is open water. 

"To make the acquaintance in the nesting season of cer- 
tain other ducks which do not go to the remote North, we 
shall have to explore the Atlantic Coast region. It is by 
no means as easy to find them there as on the Great Plains, 
yet patient searching will now and then be rewarded. Most 
of the sea ducks, such as the scoters and old squaws, mi- 
grate to Labrador and beyond. Some day I hope to follow 
them, but as yet my wanderings have not been extended 
north of the Magdalen Islands. Yet there are some inter- 
esting ducks even there to be studied." — Herbert K. Job. 

♦!♦ ♦!♦ ♦> 

A great deal has been accomplished in the last few years 
since our Government has taken a more active interest in 
protecting our game birds. 



102 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Market Hunters of the Sunken Lands 



The wild ducks from their Southern lagoons pass. — Isaac McLellen. 



BY J. B. THOMPSON. 



Where unrestricted by banks, Little River, in southeast 
Missouri, spreads far across the level surface in a series of 
wild, untameable swamps. It is a wonderfully enticing- 
feeding ground for ducks, with its submerged wilderness of 
timber, with its great swards of smartweed, with its stately 
beds of Yonkapin, watery meadows of trenchant saw grass 
and defying breaks of the omnipresent elbow grass. 

Its overflow is traceable to the earthquake of 1812. 

A small river darting from its source in the hills, on 
reaching the alluvial lands attempts the colossal task of 
draining an immense territory, and, finding itself incapable 
long before half of its course has been attained, floods the 
surroundings with a series of lakes, ponds and sloughs, 
even far back into the segregations of timber, where the 
sun never meets the earth except in Winter. 

It is only a few miles from the Mississippi, so naturally 
it is the feeding ground of the big flights during the Fall 
and Spring pilgrimages. But should there chance to be 
open water throughout the Winter, as frequently happens, 
the ducks remain. No doubt they consider that it would be 
a squandering of Nature's bounteousness, with an assort- 
ment of food and balmy weather conditions, to travel fur- 
ther south. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 103 

The miasmic waters afford a semi-amphibious popula- 
tion a living. The ducks are the main source of revenue; 
or, rathey, they were. But the fish, frogs and fur-bearing 
animals are as eagerly sought and are money producers 
not to be underestimated. On the knolls and high ground, 
in and away from the main overflow, turkeys, deer, squir- 
rels and quails are to be found in abundance. There are a 
few bears still remaining in the swamp, but they are saga- 
cious enough to keep away from the traveled paths of man. 

What brought the original inhabitants there, can only be 
guessed at; but what effected their permanent stay was 
the supply of game and fish, and the strange lure of asso- 
ciation with wild life. That they would and can remain in 
the swamps through periods of the year when swarms of 
mosquitoes and myriads of torturing gnats are at their 
worse is inexplicable. No man, unless inured to the pests, 
can remain in the swamps at night unprotected, as its in- 
habitant, or for even an hour without suffering untold 
misery. 

Some of the residents at present are outcasts from the 
warring factions of Eeelfoot Lake, which is only a short 
journey across the Father of Waters. There is a constant 
pilgrimage between these two sunken-land abiding places, 
yet there are many who never vouchsafe the reason of their 
presence, or their former occupation, for they are never 
questioned about it; if they are willing to abide by the un- 
written laws of the swamps, they are made welcome. The 
older class, however, indicate conclusive proof of the former 
stand of the French. Not only their countenances confirm 
it,, but their names certify to their origin. Godair, De Lisle, 
La Forge, Du Priest, and other names smacking of the 
Gauls, evince the blood of the pioneers that settled in the 
swamps near New Madrid over a century ago. 



104 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Despite their industries, they are by no means gregarious. 
The only place at which they ever congregate is at the 
shipping docks, where the work of loading their shipments 
on cars, and caring for visiting sportsmen, requires several 
families. 

The old-timers, having erected shanties on piling and 
floating docks, far back in the overflow — live contentedly. 
When not in pursuit of the wild creatures, they care for 
their live decoys, and mend their nets, but do attempt is 
made to cultivate as much as a small garden — presuming 
they had the inclination — for they do not reside near enough 
to terra firma to do it. 

A commerce in fish, frogs, game and furs having been 
established with the large cities, and fostered by the in- 
sidious influence of the duck buyers, professional jealousies 
disturbed the serenity of the wilderness. So long had they 
recognized the products of the swamps as solely their own 
by right of occupation, which also involved the opinion 
that they were at liberty to rule the territory, that they 
became obsessed with the notion that the visit of the sports- 
man was an intrusion, meant to destroy their power in a 
country which they had so long claimed as their own. 

The outside world has but a faint knowledge of the ways 
of the swamper. He is surprised to discover among them 
a class of natives that will refuse to pilot them through the 
ducking grounds for a fee of five dollars a day. It is not 
astonishing, however, to the man who is acquainted with 
them, especially when he realizes that they are capable of 
earning twenty-five dollars in the same length of time shoot- 
ing ducks, which they can dispose of the same day to the 
buvers at the docks. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 105 

Every resident capable of firing a gun was a market 
hunter, and is yet, if the laws only permitted him. The 
older residents are taciturn, and refuse to mingle with the 
city element, but they are hospitable when occasion war- 
rants it. The greatest display of friendly feeling comes to 
light when they invite an outsider to pole a boat into their 
blind and shoot from it. 

Long before the flight arrives, the hunters hold a con- 
ference. Each man is allotted a stand for the season, and 
none of their number can be induced to trespass on the 
territory of one of their fraternity. If a visitor evinces 
the slightest inclination to jump a claim, he is immediately 
invited to get out, or shoot it out with the local claimant. 
As the visitor comes for the sport of shooting ducks, and 
not for an opportunity of testing his marksmanship, he 
invariably withdraws gracefully and without comment.. 

During the duck flight the native shoots persistently from 
blinds erected in the flags. If they are not working over 
the decoys, the} 7 resort to wading far back in the timber 
where the ducks are feeding on mast. 

Their first venture at ducks commence in July, at wood 
ducks — "woodies," as they are called — just as the young 
ducks are about two-thirds grown. Wood ducks are reared 
in the swamps in countless numbers. Refusing to kill the 
"woodies" in Spring, the swamper depends on their in- 
crease to provide him with Summer money. They are hur- 
ried to the market, packed contrabandly in barrels of iced 
fish. 

At the opening of the wood duck shooting, the sport is 
pitifully tame. The birds are not fully feathered, and fall 
easy prey to the wielders of pump gams. The pursuit of 
them is only a preparation for what is to follow, and is 



106 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

resorted to because it is the only game for which there is 
a demand at the time. The main supply of wood ducks 
is either killed out, or has taken refuge in the lugubrious 
recesses of the flooded timber areas before the sportsman 
has a day's sport with them. 

When the big flight of mallards arrives in the Fall, the 
work of slaughter begins in earnest. Piles upon piles of 
ducks are heaped before the buyers on the docks, and the 
swamps reverberate with the incessant cannonading of hun- 
dreds of shotguns. There is no excitement to the killing of 
the ducks; it is ridiculously easy, the number is so great. 
It is merely a matter of dropping the ducks in the proper 
places, in the open water. For even the market hunter 
admits that one-half of the ducks shot are never recovered 
from the jungle of weeds and saw grass. Some of the Owl 
City hunters assert that the number of greater. 

The professional, cognizant of the hidden passageways 
through the innumerable marshes, pre-empts the choicest 
" leads," and covers the open water near them with count- 
less live decoys. Should, however, an undesirable member 
locate close by, or sufficiently near to jeopardize his ''lead," 
he goes quietly to work in a manner of his own, which 
eventually forces the unwelcome squatter to move else- 
where. Yet he will be entirely ignorant of why the ducks 
obstinately refuse to turn for his living deceits. 

During the lull in midday shooting, the native creeps 
stealthily in his light-draft boat, through secret passages 
in the grass. When he arrives within close proximity of 
his competitor, he splits the end of a cane, inserts a piece 
of mirror or bright metal, and, driving the cane in the 
mud, leaves the radiant object flashing upward. Every 



M, ■ T 



Canvasback Duck Shooting, Long Lake, Illinois. Graham Brothers 
and Patrick Griffin. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 107 

duck on the "lead" beholds the glistening object, and 
avoids it long before they are within the gunners' range. 
Where no glass or bright metal is available white paper 
is strewn here and there in the flags. It accomplishes the 
same end. A duck from its lofty elevation descries with 
its acuteness of vision the fluttering paper, although the 
occupant of the blind is unable to discover anything out 
of the ordinary. 

The market hunter of the Sunken Lands has much to 
commend him above his kind in other places. Though he 
may sit complacently in a blind and kill a hundred ducks 
in a day, he does not resort to the swivel or large-gauge 
gun for results. His customary weapon is the 12-gauge 
pump gun. He has faith in no other, and has always been 
able to accomplish large kills with it. Singularly his occu- 
pation is limited to certain days in the week. 

No persuasion can lead him to violate the unwritten 
agreement of allowing the flight a rest on Sunday. He is 
to be praised also — and the same cannot be said for the 
average city sportsman — for his absolute refusal to molest 
the ducks near a roost. 

Roost-shooting, which is the most vicious system of wan- 
ton slaughter, is indulged in too frequently by the hanger-on 
of the swamps, not the genuine native, and unfortunately, 
he has been encouraged in this by the example of the city 
sportsman. 

The writer appreciated a neat way the "Little River 
bunch" prevented an invasion of roost shooters. 

At the roosts in the neighborhood of Five Hundred Acre 
Bend, a party of city men, guided by a Reelfoot outcast, 
dropped in for the sole purpose of bombarding roosts. 



108 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The market hunters got wind of it. At sunset, in the flag 
stands close by, they lighted halls of tow saturated with 
coal oil. The gunners stationed at the roost were unable 
to behold the small flame, but the ducks circling above re- 
fused to drop in as was their custom at night. 

Many have had the pleasure 01 meeting excellent char- 
acters among the older market hunters. Aside from their 
insistence that ducks were born to be shot and sold — "if 
not, what would be the use of them" — they have many 
noble qualities. They are unselfish, unquestionably honest, 
and are obliging in every way. 

Of course, with the lid so tight on market hunting, it has 
developed among them an animosity toward any outsider. 
But if you are not a game warden, they will exert them- 
selves to their utmost to make your stay an agreeable 
one. It is regrettable that, with the exception of a few in 
the vicinity of the shipping docks, scarcely any of them 
can read or write. All the information they obtain on the 
subject of game laws is related to them at third hand, 
garbled and so distorted that their conception of the intent 
of the law is, at the least, very vague. 

The morals of the younger generation hugging closely 
the railroad, are very much lower in their standards than 
those of the old swamper. The young men visit the towns 
occasionally, load up on bad whisky and become really 
dangerous citizens. From long preying on visiting sports- 
men, they imagine themselves overly shrewd, and in con- 
sequence they are very conceited in their knowledge of 
swamp lore. After a debauch, they develop morbidly an- 
tagonistic tendencies toward all visitors. The depressing 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 109 

effects of malaria, combined with the brand of settlement 
whisky they imbibe, has driven them to some atrocious 
deeds. When their ready money is expended, they push 
out secretively in their shell of a boat and kill ducks no 
matter what season of the year it is. The birds are easily 
disposed of to unscrupulous buyers. 

It is a good thing, however, that they usually settle their 
difficulties among themselves, for none seem to care what 
happens to them in the overflow. 

How daring some of them become can be drawn from 
the history of the Big Lake troubles. 

The market hunter is no better shot than the average 
experienced hunter. The mystery attached to his wonder- 
ful prowess is nothing more than a steadfast refusal to 
take uncertain chances on his game. No doubt, under the 
same conditions, he will kill more ducks than the amateur, 
but he will not risk the hard shots, which the everyday 
outer considers inseparable from the enjoyment of his pas- 
time. 

The most difficult task, perhaps, to be contended with in 
weaning the market hunter from his beloved profession is 
the bad effect disseminated by local candidates for the 
Legislature. The natives only commence to become recon- 
ciled to the new order of affairs, and on the lookout for 
better and less risky employment, when the politician can- 
vasses the swamps and promises these simple-minded peo- 
ple an immediate repeal of the game laws will follow his 
installment in office. 

There is material of interest scattered abroad the Sunken 
Lands to inspire volumes, of readable matter for sportsmen. 



110 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

"Jack." 



Jack was a dog about the size and build of a Gordon 
setter. He was evidently a cross between a setter and 
some variety of spaniel, but had none of the spaniel char- 
acteristics. His coat was dark brown, rich and glossy. 

What made him still more valuable as an all-around dog 
was the fact that he would point any of our game birds, 
such as quail, prairie chickens, woodcock, or jack snipe. 

Jack was a splendid retriever, being an excellent swim- 
mer. He had a very sensitive nose, and was a wonder at 
finding wounded birds in any kind of cover, whether in the 
rushes, long grass or brush. 

He was very intelligent and tractable, something you 
cannot say for many retrievers, particularly the Irish water 
spaniel. 

When shooting mallards or pintails in the corn-fields 
Jack would watch the flock closely after you fired to see 
if any fell at a distance, and if a duck began to lower its 
flight from the flock he would start after it, knowing the 
bird was mortally wounded and would fall. 

Many times when out with a party of hunters the dog 
would be missed for a time and directly he would come 
running up carrying a wing-broken duck, probably wounded 
the day before, which he had found in the long grass or 
rushes. 

He would cast off to find a bird in any direction you in- 
dicated to him by a wave of the arm when at a distance 
in a corn-field or on marshy ground when he had to retrieve 
more than one bird from a flock and it was necessary for 
him to make several trips to get them all. 




Jack. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. Ill 

The United States Biological Survey. 



The Biological Survey, a bureau in the United States 
Department of Agriculture, broadly speaking, is concerned 
with all the relations of wild birds and mammals to the 
United States. The work of the bureau is conducted along 
four principal lines: 

1. Investigations of the food habits of North American 
birds and mammals in relation to agriculture; 

2. Biological investigations with special reference to the 
geographic distribution of native animals and plants; 

3. Supervising of national bird and mammal reserva- 
tions, the preservation of native wild game, and the en- 
forcement of the Lacey Act regulating the importation of 
birds and inter-state shipment of game; 

4. Administration of the Federal migratory bird law. 

The Biological Survey, in enforcing the Lacey Act re- 
lating to inter-state traffic in game, renders important as- 
sistance to the States in really getting results from their 
regulations regarding the sale of game. Hundreds of cases 
have been tried under the Act and in one case a fine of 
$50,000 was imposed. 

The management of the national bird reservations and 
game refuges is a large item in the work of the Biological 
Survey. There are now 70 bird reservations and 4 large 
game refuges. The bird reservations furnish safe breed- 
ing places for hundreds of thousands of water-fowl. Some 
of those sanctuaries, as those at Deer Flat, Idaho, Klamath 
Lake and Malheur Lakes, Oregon, are important breeding- 
grounds for wild ducks and geese. 



112 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Regular reports on the migration of birds are received 
from all parts of the United States from more than 300 
volunteer observers and some from Canada and Alaska. 
These furnish some valuable records in connection with the 
administration of the migratory bird law. 

Thousands of stomachs of water-fowl have been examined 
for the purpose of learning what are the most important 
foods of ducks and geese and the resulting information has 
been utilized in the preparation of three bulletins, describ- 
ing the value, distribution, appearance, and methods of 
propagating more than fifty important wild duck foods. 

In connection with the administration of the migratory 
bird law an investigation is being made of the present 
statute of migratory species in various parts of the United 
States. In co-operation with this work the section of Eco- 
nomic Investigations is making a survey of the duck food 
plants in important breeding and wintering areas, upon the 
results of which will be based recommendations for the 
improvement of conditions. The results, published together, 
will form an invaluable stock of information for use in 
connection with the measures taken to increase the food 
supply of our wild-fowl and otherwise to conserve this 
valuable National asset. 

To summarize: The work of the Biological Survey is 
helpful in some way to every citizen of the United States. 
To those who are especially interested in wild-fowl, the 
foregoing account makes clear, that the problem of pre- 
serving and increasing the numbers of their favorite birds 
is one that the Biological Survey is attacking from several 
sides. Valuable results already have been attained and 
with the cordial co-operation of sportsmen of the United 
States the future holds promise of much greater things. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 113 

Queer Experience of a Duck Hunter Shooting in the Overflow. 



Within the shadow of the distant shore, a solitary loon swam lazily. — Rhymes of 

Stream and Forest. 



My brother and myself were camped below Hennepin on 
the Illinois and were shooting in the overflowed corn-fields 
and timber lands during the Spring flight. We had our 
camp on a little knoll on the river bank about a mile and a 
half below Hennepin and it was the only piece of land for 
several miles along the river bank that we could discover 
which would not be submerged when the river began to rise, 
as it would rise and fall every few days following storms. 

One morning I left the camp for a day's shooting in my 
boat, not knowing just where I was going to locate for the 
day, and thought I would prospect around until I could find 
a favorable spot to set out my decoys. There were ducks 
constantly on the move overhead. Occasionally I would get 
a shot at a flock of mallards over the tops of the trees. 

I was back some distance from the main channel and I 
finally returned to the river and crossed it to the other 
side. I could see nothing of our camp and estimated I was 
about three miles below it on the river. I had not been 
able to keep the points of the compass very well, as I later 
on discovered. 

Although I preferred to shoot mallards to bluebills, in 
the early part of the afternoon I ran across a spot that 
the bluebills seemed to greatly favor as a resort and I 
could not resist setting out my decoys for a while. Tt 
was evidently a pond when the river was at a normal stage 
and was surrounded by willow trees, making an excellent 



114 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

cover for a boat. At a little distance I could see the large 
oak trees bordering the Illinois, but the whole country was 
under water and you could row in any direction. 

Before long the bluebills began to return and I had 
some excellent shooting. I was back from the main chan- 
nel of the river about 150 yards. 

Late in the afternoon I happened to glance across the 
river and something white caught my eye. I looker closer 
and was surprised to see our tent on the opposite side of 
the river. I was astonished. How in the world did I get 
where I was or had the tent moved? I could swear I had 
rowed five or six miles and was away below our camp on 
the river. In truth, I had been directly across from our 
camp on the river all afternoon and had just discovered it. 
I had really made a circuit of five or six miles and had 
returned nearly to where I had started from, except / was 
on the opposite side of the river! 



There is a stretch of swift water on the Des Plaines 
River near its mouth, and I once floated in my hunting 
boat within gunshot of a large flock of goldeneyes who 
were feeding in a small bay just off the main channel of 
the river, and as they rose I fired two shots and six ducks 
fell. The flock flew away on down the center of the river 
and after they had gone some distance suddenly one of 
the flock closed his wings and fell dead in the stream. The 
balance of the flock continued on and soon another one fell, 
then another and another, until four had fallen. As I went 
on down the river the four ducks were picked up one at a 
time, each some distance from the other, and all being stone 
dead. The last one was more than a mile from where I 
had shot into the flock. A tenacious bird, the goldeneye. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 115 

Shooting the Bluebill Over Decoys. 



' ' Their black heads skim the blue tops of the billows. ' ' 



Shooting over decoys has always been the most favored 
method of duck shooting, and of all ducks that fly none 
decoys more readily than bluebills or butterballs, as they 
are called in some localities. There are really two varie- 
ties, the greater and lesser scaup ducks. The ring-bill is 
also very similar, being sometimes confounded with the 
bluebill. 

When you have found a spot where they are feeding, 
drive them away without shooting at them, set out your 
decoys, and directly they will begin to return. 

I have had bluebills come into the decoys while I was 
sitting in plain sight in my boat among the decoys after 
retrieving some birds. I have also had redheads do the 
same thing. Needless to say, it is rare that any other kind 
of ducks are so incautious. 

One Spring day when the bluebills were flying well I made 
a bag of forty-six at Au Sable. I had a boat at the lake 
and shot over decoys and could easily have made a larger 
bag by remaining longer, but I thought forty-six sufficient. 

In the Spring of 1894 my brother Henry and I killed 130 
ducks in two days at the mouth of the Des Plaines River. 
The bag consisted of about sixty redheads, eighteen can- 
vasbacks and the remainder were bluebills. 

From my hunting diary I find that the largest number 
of successive successful days' shooting I ever had was in 
the Spring of 1888, when I bagged 400 ducks in ten days. 



116 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Hunting Bluebills in New England Waters. 



Far in the west, the yellow sun went down. — Rhymes of Stream and Forest. 



Though the scaups are classed scientifically among the 
"sea ducks," they seem to me to be found almost as much 
on fresh water as on salt. A great many of the greater 
and lesser scaup frequent the large ponds, and take good 
care of themselves, not minding the decoys nor allowing 
themselves to be approached. I have seen, and taken, the 
ring-necked scaup occasionally. 

The other sea ducks that come into the ponds do not fare 
so well. I refer to the three scoters and the old squaw, 
or long-tailed duck. They seem bewildered, and will not 
leave, though it cost them their lives. The gunners soon 
see them, and paddle toward them down wind. The foolish 
ducks wait for a fusillade in the water, and then secure 
another, rising toward the boat. At length all are killed 
but stragglers, which are followed up and shot separately. 

Last Fall, on October 11, I happened to be in Berkshire 
County, Massachusetts, near Lake Buell, and began to hear 
accounts of wonderful duck shooting in the lake that day. 
Almost every family in the community had ducks hanging 
up in the shed — surf and white-winged scoters. There had 
been a storm the day before, and toward night an immense 
flock of these scoters, probably lost and wearied, settled 
down into the lake. Many were killed that night and the 
next day. A hundred end fifty-eight was the number of 
"casualties" reported. Wild geese are also addicted to 
similar wanderings and disasters, especially in sleet storms, 
during their flight. — Herbert K. Job. 



w 

m5 w 



13C 




DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 117 

Some American Ornithologists. 



No painter can draw a line on canvas like the flight of wild-fowl along the sky, 

Ernest McGaffey. 



The pioneer of American ornithologists was Alexander 
Wilson, a poor Scotch weaver, who came to America in 
1794, and, animated by a passionate love of Nature, studied 
the birds of America in their native haunts, producing a 
work remarkable for its graphic descriptions of their habits 
and the beautiful colored plates prepared from drawings 
made by his own hand with which it is adorned. 

Then came Audubon, who, with the advantage of having 
the observations of Wilson before him, pushed his re- 
searches still further and produced the magnificent work 
in seven volumes which, with its expuisitely colored plates, 
will ever remain a glorious monument to his genius. Au- 
dubon was followed by Dr. Elliott Coues, Ridgway and 
others. 

Of present-day ornithologists I consider Herbert K. Job 
to have a greater knowledge of wild-fowl than any man 
in America. 

Mr. Job has spent a great deal of time studying our 
water-fowl, has made several trips to their various nesting 
places in the North, and is a most interesting and instruc- 
tive writer and a true lover of Nature. 

Mr. Job has written several bulletins on the propaga- 
tion of wild-fowl for the National Association of Audubon 
Societies and a number of text-books on conservation and 
allied topics. Mr. Job favors hunting with a camera in- 
stead of a gun. 



118 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Wilson Snipe, or Jack Snipe. 



Many hunters think that the sport of hunting jack snipe 
is more enjoyable than that of any other of our small game. 
The amateur hunter and marksman usually finds the jack 
snipe a difficult bird to hit, with his irregular, corkscrew- 
like flight. 

Like deep-water ducks, they always rise against the wind, 
and fresh ground should always be hunted with the wind 
at the hunter's back. This gives him many quartering 
shots at different angles. As jack snipe do not fly in flocks, 
it is mostly shooting at single birds, and a small number 
of birds will often furnish the hunter considerable sport. 

The jack snipe is somewhat erratic in his habits and 
you sometimes find him in most unexpected places, under 
the willows along a river or perhaps near a spring at the 
borders of a wood. 

Unless they have been hunted a great deal, the jack snipe 
does not generally make a long flight when flushed, and 
can be readily followed up. 

On rainy days they simply will not lie and it is useless to 
try and hunt them at such a time. They will rise before you 
get within gunshot, ascending high into the air, and then 
begin a series of manceuvers that would do credit to any 
aeroplane, rising and dipping alternately, and continue 
this for some time, making a most peculiar and picturesque 
whirring sound with their wings, which once heard, is not 
so'on forgotten. Some authorities say that this is the court- 
ship of the male bird, but I doubt it. 




! 




! 


1 


II 


, • 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 119 

A Remarkable Duck Hunt On Little River, Missouri. 



When the woods are tinged with Autumn 's brush. — Isaac McLellan. 



BY J. B. THOMPSON. 



The market hunter of the Sunken Lands is gifted with a 
tremendous acuteness in understanding the habits of wild- 
fowl. He is singularly correct about what days ducks will 
come into the decoys, the "lead" which they will follow; 
his prophecies are almost incredible in their correctness. 
Then while in the blind he is motionless — a thing of stone 
— until the instant for execution arrives, and he kills his 
ducks to fall only in open water. He is a splendid caller, 
something you seldom see among sportsmen, for they are 
as likely to call a flock of pintails with the same note used 
for mallards. They are also able to distinguish the variety 
of ducks at remarkable distances. They are in this guided 
solely by the flight of the ducks, says Mr. Thompson in 
The American Field. 

The insight of a native, under certain conditions,, is noth- 
ing less than marvelous. There are times when ducks are 
in sight everywhere in flight, but nothing can tempt him 
into the blind, for he believes he is infallible about when 
the ducks will decoy. He only glances at the water lapping 
the flags to decide him; and, strangely, while guided by 
these signs, which are indeed confusing to the average 
mortal, he seldom reads them incorrectly. 

One December evening the writer arrived in the .swamps 
on Little Eiver. It was almost dark. And, as he flung 
aside his belongings in the guide's camp house, he was 



120 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

informed that there was an abundance of dncks. That 
night a north wind drove down mercilessly through the 
swamps. It howled hideously through the unseasoned and 
unmatched planking of the small edifice of sweet gum. 

My aspirations drooped considerably at the thought of 
everything becoming frozen during the night, and the flight 
far off in the South. Just as I anticipated, the next morn- 
ing an unending sheet of ice greeted my eyes. The weather 
was bitterly cold. I could hear the soft swish of wings, as 
I glanced overhead and beheld flock after flock hastening 
southward. 

Entering the house my guide became aware of my dis- 
appointment. "Don't recken we'll git enny ducks today," 
he said, a quizzical smile spreading over his dark face. 

"No, just my luck!" I replied, vainly trying to repress 
my chagrin. 

While we ate heartily of our breakfast, in silence, the 
strange play of the guide's features puzzled me. When he 
arose from the table he pulled off his shoes and donned his 
rubber boots and hunting coat. 

"Come on!" he said. 

Thinking some strange farce was about to be enacted by 
Jack, I dressed in the same manner and followed at his 
heels. The ice was strong enough to bear us, though we 
hugged the timber, fearing that too close an approach to 
the river might reveal a weak place only too late. 

Jack now cut six long poles of pawpaw. And much as 
I wished to learn of his intent, I kept apace with him with- 
out speaking. He led me to a spread of open country, 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 121 

close to a clump of saw grass, where I remembered the 
water was very shallow. 

Every glance at the sky marked long lines of ducks, 
great banded flocks all looking for unfinable open water, or 
preparing a burst of speed for more balmy surroundings. 

Jack fastened his pawpaw poles together with stout cords, 
until they attained a length of 60 feet. He split the end 
of one and affixed a small board, which he carried in the 
folds of his coat. The contrivance resembled a small snow 
scraper with an elongated handle. 

''Now!" exclaimed Jack, "let's git 'nd break a beeg 
open place in the ice." 

We went at it with a will, and soon, by prodigious tramp- 
ing and jumping, had quite a large space broken before we 
waded back to the bleak shelter of tawny grass. 

Jack shoved his long pole into the water, worked it con- 
stantly to and fro, until the water and broken ice was then 
churned into a miniature wave display. 

"Take hold of the pole now, and keep her a-goin, 'nd I'll 
git to callin.' " he said. 

How the ducks came to that one hole of water in the vast 
swamps no one can realize without having been on the 
scene. They came in flocks, then in communities of thou- 
sands. We secured our limit in a few minutes, but the 
play of the native was too great a treat to leave immedi- 
diately. I can never forget how the great clouds of seeth- 
ing wings and startled, raucous notes emanated from the 
vicinity of that little space of open water. It was almost 
beyond belief! 



122 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Sand Hill Crane. 



BY HAMILTON M. LAING. 



Chief of all scouts is old Garoo, the sandhill crane, the 
wise one of the plainland, he of the five-foot stature, the 
eye that sees by day and night, and the brain that can 
plan and reason, says Mr. Laing in Outing. He is the 
chief of the sagaciously strong, for he still survives where 
his one-time neighbors of the wild have failed. The fleet 
and wondrous antelope, the proud elk, the giant bison and 
fierce grizzly and gray wolf have passed from the plain- 
land forever, but old Garoo is yet with us. 

Still his sentinel form peers afar from rounding prairie 
knoll, still his raucous garoo rolls out across the silent 
wastes, still his long rank swings twice yearly across the 
continent from the western Canadian prairies to the region 
of the Gulf of Mexico and back, and ever he defies his arch 
foe man. A brother in arms and a brother scout to the 
coyote is he, for of all the teeming things once of the 
plains, these two alone by their wits and resources have 
fought their fight and held at least a little of their own. 

That he has survived at all speaks volumes for his craft 
and hardihood; for he is a great bird, magnificent of stat- 
ure, and it is the way of hunters to seek out such for the 
killing. And among feathered game old Garoo has the 
proudest head of them all; yet he has saved it. 

To realize him one must hunt him; and to hunt him suc- 
cessfully is to acquire a liberal education in Scoutcraft. 
Of course, I did not realize all these things about Garoo 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 123 

until I began to c'hase him with a camera. Now, after 
spending a week or two yearly for several years camping 
on his trail, I doff my hat to him as he goes by, give him 
the sign and salute him as Chief Scout of the plainland. I 
have beaten him a time or two but that was when Dame 
Fortune stacked the cards against him. 

It must not be taken that old Garoo and his tribe can be 
hunted today in very many places. Of necessity he must 
hold to the open and barren lands; thickly settled country 
is not for him; his tall bulk is a target too inviting for a 
rifle and so he eschews the district of the big red barns 
and holds to the land of the homesteader's shanty and the 
new-turned furrow. Pioneers of the northwestern prairies 
know him most intimately. 

As a sentinel Garoo is unsurpassed for few birds indeed 
are so well equipped by Nature. His great stature gives 
him the range almost of that of a man; his eye is won- 
drously keen, telescopically so; it is so near the top of his 
head that he can peer over the crest of a knoll and see 
without being seen, and its clear, amber yellow suggests an 
owl-like vision at night. Though he is big and tall, he is 
not really easily seen, for his coat is one of Nature's tri- 
umphs of protective coloration. 

In flight Garoo is the original aeroplane; the man-made 
product, in spite of its motor, is an infringement. 

Few birds show the same attachment between mates or 
of parents for their young. Indeed, many a crane loses his 
life through this attachment, for when one bird is shot, the 
mate or parent is all too apt to throw caution to the winds 
and haunt the neighborhood until he loses his own life. 



124 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Propagation of Wild-Fowl By the United States Government. 



A crystal lake among the tree-clad hills. — Rhymes of Stream and Forest. 



I am indebted to a recent number of Outing for the fol- 
lowing facts regarding Mr. Job's trips to the far Northern 
breeding grounds of wild-fowl. 

Recently the United States Government commissioned 
Herbert K. Job and three assistants to go to Northwest 
Canada to procure specimens of various species of wild 
ducks for propagation. They encamped at Lake Mani- 
toba, Northwest Canada, and had the co-operation of the 
Dominion Government. They gathered and hatched out 
eggs of ten species of wild ducks, raised a large pro- 
portion of the young, bringing back about 100 of them 
for breeding stock in experiments which are now under 
way. They were late in getting located, and unfortu- 
nately the canvasbacks, which are early breeders, had all 
hatched. This species was the most interesting and im- 
portant of all, and have never been known to breed in 
captivity. They were allowed to try it again last year, 
especially with a view to securing young canvasbacks and 
of studying other species. The prime requisite was to find 
a canvasback breeding country. 

On the second trip they decided to go to Lake Winnepe- 
gosis, in the unsurveyed wilderness of Northern Manitoba. 
This lake stretches north for 140 miles from a point where 
a railroad touches it at its extreme southern point. During 
the long period while the ice is softening the few isolated 
inhabitants have no communication with the outside world. 
They reached this lake on the 29th of May. Spring had 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 125 

only recently come, as the ice had only disappeared the 
week before. They had with them incubators, brooders, 
photographic outfits, duck-feed, and so on. Storms of con- 
siderable intensity occur on this lake, even in summer. The 
marshes extend for a mile on each side of the border of the 
lake, making a splendid nesting place and home for wild- 
fowl. 

On exploring the surrounding country the} 7 found large 
numbers of canvasbacks, redheads, ruddies, goldeneyes, teal, 
and various other water-birds, particularly the black tern, 
which was everywhere, and proved to be the most abund- 
ant bird of the region. Ruffed grouse were also drumming 
incessantly in all directions. Already it was nearly hatch- 
ing time for the canvasbacks, and they hastened to hunt 
for nests. The nesting location chosen by the canvasbacks 
was peculiar. Instead of being, as is more usual, placed in 
clumps of reeds or rushes or areas of these out in the lake 
or slough, in every case the nests were found built back 
from small, shallow pools in the marsh, from one to five 
yards from the edge, in continuous areas of a peculiar 
sedge. The nest was a mound of dead stems of the sedge, 
built up almost towerlike, in some cases over a foot above 
the water. The sedge all around in a circle was pulled up 
or trampled down, leaving the nest in a little open pond 
several feet wide, without anything to conceal it, and was 
visible for some distance. ■ On taking the eggs they were at 
once wrapped in flannel and placed in pails, thence to be 
transferred to the incubators on their return to their camp. 

Young ducks need green food, and it was hard to provide 
this in sufficient quantity, till one day in a trip across the 
lake, they discovered a large concourse of ducks in an area 



126 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

of water-plants growing up from the bottom of the lake. 
This proved to be wild celery, on which the ducks were feed- 
ing. They brought back a boatload of it, and the young 
ducks, although they had never seen any, ate it with the 
greatest eagerness. Thereafter they had a continual sup- 
ply of it. 

Mr. Job noticed, too, that the canvasback, in common 
with other allied species of deep-water ducks, are slower in 
feathering than the shoal-water ducks. The pintail, for in- 
stance, shows feathers on the sides at three weeks, and is 
able to fly at ten to eleven weeks. The canvasback shows no 
trace of feather under four weeks, and even at twelve 
weeks the flight feathers are still immature. 

When Mr. Job and his assistants returned, after spending 
three months at the lake, they had a thriving family of full 
200, comprising the following eleven species: Canvasback, 
redhead, lesser scaup or bluebill, American goldeneye or 
whistler, pintail, mallard, gad wall or gray duck, blue-wing 
and green-wing teal, and American coot or mudhen. All 
did well except the goldeneye, which did not seem to thrive 
in captivity. This seems strange, as they are the hardiest 
of wild ducks. They can subsist anywhere there is open 
water. They found the canvasbacks the shiest and easily 
frightened. If a sudden move was made while feeding the 
young canvasbacks the birds were badly frightened. 

The birds have been installed in a game preserve in Con- 
necticut and the United States will endeavor to propagate 
the different varieties obtained. 

Mr. Job says that the ducks are good ducks, docile and 
obedient, willing to be experimented upon. And he says 
he cannot help feeling a fatherly interest in them. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 127 

The Old Squaw, or Long-Tailed Duck. 



The old squaw or long-tailed duck is one of the most 
unique birds of the duck family. It is a beautiful and 
hardy bird and is usually found in large flocks on both of 
our sea coasts. It is only taken at rare intervals in the in- 
terior of the United States. A few have been killed on 
Lake Michigan at intervals. 

The old squaw is so named from its noisy habit of con- 
tinually talking while on the water and frequently uttering 
musical cries while on the wing. 

The old squaw is an expert diver and there are said to be 
instances where a bird, being shot at while flying low over 
the water, had dived from the wing and escaped unhurt. 

The old squaw nests in the Arctic regions and when pre- 
paring to migrate north in the Spring, assemble in large 
flocks, circling about high in the air and performing many 
graceful evolutions. The rapidity and irregularity of their 
flight is remarkable. A flock will start to fly over the water 
in some direction and will dart around as aimlessly as a 
flock of pintails on a windy day in the Spring. Their flight 
is very swallowlike. 

The old squaw associates in large flocks even on their 
breeding grounds, and have been seen in Alaska and the 
Hudson Bay country in the middle of the Summer in flocks 
of many hundreds. 

Although such a handsome and active bird, the flesh of 
the old squaw cannot be eaten on account of the strong 
fishy flavor, as its chief food is shell-fish. 

Herbert K. Job says he considers the old squaw duck the 
swiftest flier among birds. 



128 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Hunting the Old Squaw Duck On the Eastern Sea Coast. 



One of the prime wild-fowl sights of such bays as Chat- 
ham is the exit of the old squaw ducks at sundown. They 
feed during the winter days at the head of the bay. To see 
or shoot them, one should anchor in a skiff at the middle of 
some narrow channel. At length there will come a confused 
chorus of weird cries, resembling the music of a pack of 
hounds on the trail — and music indeed it is. Presently a 
line of fowl will appear, sweeping down the channel. They 
do not always seem to notice the boat, and I have often 
had them double right by the bow when I sat up to shoot. 
There is no swifter flier than this same garrulous "squaw," 
and if one hits such a mark very often, he must be an 
adept. Going at such tremendous velocity, when one is 
brought down, I have been amazed at the distance that its 
momentum will carry it, ricochetting over the water, before 
it can stop. 

They appear to rest on the open sea at night, where they 
are quite safe from molestation. On cold, still days they 
sit in flocks on the water and their chatter, which often 
seems to resolve itself into major thirds, is to me one of 
the finest sounds of Arctic-like nature at this season. 

The staple, standard fowl for the hunter is the dusky or 
black duck, excellent for the table, and one of the wariest 
of them all. 

The goldeneyes also feed in the bays, and, hidden in a 
seaweed "blind," one can toll them up with wooden decoys, 
and have good sport. — From "Among the Water-Fowl,' 9 
by Herbert K. Job. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 129 

Favorite Foods of the Wild Duck. 



BY CLYDE B. TERRELL. 



There is some kind of attractive duck food suited to 
practically every type of marshes and waters and soil. 
Careful study has proven that the following are among the 
very best and most attractive food for wild water-fowl. 
Duck potato or wapato, wild rice, wild celery, peppergrass 
or water cress, a number of varieties of potamogeton, blue 
duck millet, chinquapins, and chufas. 

Not all of these foods are eaten by all kinds of ducks. 
For instance, wild rice is a food of the marsh ducks, such 
as mallards, teal, and pintails, while wild celery is a food 
of the diving or deep-water ducks like the canvasback, red- 
heads, and bluebills. A wide variety of foods are recom- 
mended for attracting various kinds of water-fowl, and 
providing food at different times of the year. 

There are a few plants, chief among them being the duck 
potato or wapato, which are eagerly sought for by prac- 
tically all ducks of both marsh and diving species, as well 
as by many varieties of other water-fowl. 

DUCK POTATO OR WAPATO. 

(Sagittaria latifolia.) 

The duck potato or wapato plant produces tender bulbs 

and shoots that wild ducks are very fond of. Handsome 

arrow-head shaped leaves and its stalks of delicate white 

flowers make it a highly desirable ornamental plant, The 



130 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

plant produces bulbs about the size of a small onion, and 
starts new plants in three ways, from bulbs, runners, and 
seeds. 

WILD CELERY. 

( Vallisneria spiralis.) 

Wild celery does not resemble garden celery, but is really 
an eel-grass, growing entirely beneath the water. The 
plant is adapted to soft mud or loam bottoms, and fresh 
or slightly brackish water from iy 2 to 8 feet in depth. The 
ribbon-like leaves of the wild celery plant at the bottom 
appear like long wide-bladed grass. From each plant 
stems as large as a common string and several feet long, 
run toward the surface. During the late Summer or early 
Autumn, mucilaginous seed-bearing pods form on the tips 
of these stems, averaging from one-eighth to one-quarter 
of an inch in diameter and from 3 to 5 inches in length. 
It should be remembered that wild celery is a perennial 
plant, that is, it lives from year to year, and it is not 
usually until the second or third year after planting that 
it produces the seed-bearing pods by which it is commonly 
identified. The plants send out runners like those of a 
strawberry plant, in all directions. An abundance of new 
plants are started from these runners, as well as from seed 
and winter buds, so that after the plants are once rooted 
there is little danger of their ever dying out. 

PEPPERGBASS OR WATER CRESS. 

( Nasturtium offincinale. ) 
This plant was originally a native of the British Isles 
and gamekeepers there recommend it highly for planting 




ifS-S 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 131 

in duck preserves. It has been successfully introduced in 
a number of preserves in this country and many kinds of 
water-fowl, especially black duck, are known to be very 
fond of it. 

AMERICAN LOTUS OR WATER CHINQUAPIN. 

(Nelumbo lutea.) 

This is an exceptionally attractive mallard food. The 
plant is of the nature of a water lily, bearing large, hand- 
some, pale yellow flowers from 5 to 9 inches broad, which 
makes it an attractive ornamental water plant. The seeds 
that the ducks are fond of are borne in pits in the flat 
upper surface of the top-like receptacle remaining after the 
petals have fallen from the flower. The plant grows best 
on a mud or loam bottom. 

WILD RICE. 

(Zisania aquatioa.) 

All marsh ducks, especially the mallard, wood duck, teal, 
black duck, widgeon, and pintail, as well as wild geese and 
other water-fowl, are very fond of wild rice. Its graceful 
panicles of bloom give the wild rice a decidedly ornamental 
appearance. Besides providing a favorite food in the form 
of grain and shoots, the dense stalk-like growth provides 
cover for the birds. 

Wild rice has been known to grow in water up to a depth 
of 5 feet, but it appears to grow best in from 6 inches to 
3y 2 feet of fresh or slightly salty water, and on soft muddy 
bottoms. Whether or not waters are too salty for wild rice 
can be determined by tasting the water. If the water is 
salty to taste, it is too salty. Wild rice seed is generally 



132 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

sown in the fall, the time that the plant naturally goes to 
seed. If it has been properly stored, it may be planted in 
the spring with good results. The seed must be kept wet 
and never allowed to dry, however, for it is certain that 
dried wild rice seed will never grow. 

NUT GRASS OR CHUFA. 

(Cuperus esculentus.) 

While this food is not at present, perhaps, so widely 
known as some of the other duck foods which have been 
mentioned, it has been found that wood duck, mottled duck, 
mallards and canvasbacks are very fond of its numerous 
tubers, and that it is the principal element which renders 
a number of famous hunting grounds so attractive to wild 
ducks. 

The nut grass or chufa is adapted to light, rich, sandy, 
humus or loam soils around lakes, streams and other waters 
which are dry in summer, but overflowed in fall, winter, or 
early spring, to make them available for duck food. 

The plant is a heavy bearer, a single plant producing 
usually about 100, but in some cases as many as 600 of the 
little nut-like tubers that the wild ducks are so fond of. 

BLUE DUCK MILLET. 

(EchmocMoa crus-galli.) 

Mallards, pintails, teal and other shoal-water ducks are 
fond of the seeds, stems, and leaves of this plant, and in 
some cases it has been found to make up more than half of 
the diet of certain of these ducks. 

The plant is of a grass-like nature with purplish colored 
seed-heads, growing anywhere from 1 to 4 feet in height. 
Blue duck millet is adapted to moist, rich soils, such as 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 133 

along the edges of lakes, marshes, swamps and in wet 
lowlands of meadows. 

POTAMOGETONS. 

These are a group of pond plants that compose a large 
percentage of the food of all wild ducks. There are at 
least thirty-eight species of this group, but I only select 
the species that are important as wild duck food. 

These plants produce numerous tubers and seeds that are 
readily sought for by many ducks. Teal are very fond of 
potamogetons, and large flocks of them are often found 
feeding in beds of these plants. 

There is nothing more deceptive that the speed or pace at 
which a bird is flying. The smaller the bird the greater 
its speed appears to be. Of wild ducks, the mallard is prob- 
ably the slowest, and his speed is estimated at from 40 to 
50 miles an hour. I would place the wood duck and pintail 
at about 50 to 60 miles an hour; the widgeon and the gad- 
wall about the same, from 60 to 70 miles an hour; and I 
do not think there is much difference between the speed of 
the redhead, blue and green-wing teal, bluebill, goldeneye 
and canvasback, and I would place their speed at from 80 
to 100 miles an hour, depending on whether the wind was 
in their favor or not. Herbert K. Job says there is no 
swifter flier among birds than the old squaw duck. 



134 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Quail. 



The quail is one of the most popular game birds in the 
United States and has a wide distribution. 

Dwight W. Huntington says he considers the quail our 
finest game bird. 

"Bob White" is a true game bird and deserves all the 
good things that are said of him. 

While the prairie chicken retreats before the advance of 
civilization and the settling up of a country, the quail does 
not and will thrive sometimes better in an older settled 
district if there is a reasonable amount of cover and the 
Winters are not too severe. 

"Bob White" is an optimistic bird and his cheerful 
whistle is enjoyed alike by the farmer and the sportsman 
as he sits on a fence post or at the edge of an orchard. 

If you have a well-broken dog it adds greatly to your 
pleasure in quail hunting. 

The quail feeds in the morning, and generally retires 
during the middle of the forenoon to the heaviest cover in 
the neighborhood. 

It is surprising how a quail will stick to a little bit of 
cover after the bevy has been scattered. When flushed in 
the timber they will sometimes take to the trees, hiding 
among the branches, or sticking so close to the trunk of an 
old oak tree that they resemble a knot. 

Quail have increased in some parts of the Middle West 
since the length of the season has been shortened, and are 
now fairly plentiful in most sections. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 135 

Observations and Conclusions On Duckology. 



Where the shadows of the trees unbroken lie. — Rhymes of Stream and Forest. 



BY DR. FEEDINAND BKOWN. 



It is interesting to the Nature student to study the 
methods of flight of wild-fowl. According to the theory of 
least resistance (which the political economist says governs 
all things), the ducks immigrating would take that country 
which contained the least number of sportsmen, other con- 
ditions being equal. Of course, the elements control the 
birds' flight to a certain extent. The general direction of 
the flight, however, is from the northwest to the southeast 
in the Fall, and from the southeast to the northwest in the 
Spring. Why they take this particular angle on their long 
journeys across the country we can only surmise. Perhaps 
it is due to the general direction of the wind at that time 
of the year, or maybe on account of general direction of the 
large bodies of water of the country. Observe the condi- 
tion of the country that the duck or goose flies over from 
the time it leaves Canada until it arrives at its Southern 
destination, and you will see that part of the country which 
is best supplied with moisture and crops. When the time 
comes for the general flight to the South, the bird seems to 
be master of the situation and picks out that route which 
appeals to it as being the choicest. 

While one species will fly from its northern breeding 
ground to the southern waters in one continual flight, other 



136 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

species will make the trip in installments, as it were, stop- 
ping at various points on the way to rest and feed. It is 
reasonable to assume that the ducks which fly highest and 
make the longest trip without a stop have the greatest wing 
capacity in proportion to their size. In other words, they 
are geared higher. While a teal duck may fly across your 
blind at a greater speed than a mallard, it does not follow 
that the teal would outdistance the mallard in a flight of 
1000 miles without stop. Probably the contrary would be 
true. Different species of ducks take different altitudes in 
flying long distances, and if we were able to pick out a bird 
from each species, representing the different altitudes of 
flight, we could determine to a nicety which was the highest 
and which the lowest geared bird. And what bird, of the 
duck family, would we find at the highest flight? For have 
you not been hunting late in the Fall, near the close of the 
season, and watched and watched the ducks flying over your 
blind, high up in the air 1 ? And have you not said to your- 
self that these ducks were ticketed for the Gulf, without a 
stop-over privilege! Sure you have! What kind of ducks 
were they? Some of them were too high in the air to tell. 

THE AUTOMOBILE AN ENEMY TO OUR WILD GAME. 

Did you ever stop to consider what a deadly enemy the 
automobile has become to our wild life? How it has in- 
creased the numbers of hunters in a few years at the ratio 
of from 10 to 100. A few years ago ten hunters would go 
out on the opening day and bag a hundred birds, using 
mostly the double-barrel shot-gun. Now, on the opening 
day, 100 hunters go from the same locality, armed with the 
automatic shot-gun, and bag a thousand birds. The auto- 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 137 

mobile has made this condition possible. If methods of 
transportation from the town to the sloughs and ponds 
were the same today as they were before the advent of the 
automobile, the ambitious hunter would have to go around 
to all his sporting friends and beg them to go out for a 
shoot, in order to get up a party. Today (especially on a 
Saturday night) the hunter has to beg for a chance to go 
in the auto ; he will pay as high as $5 for a seat, in the car 
for a day and will ride 100 miles in the auto to get a shot 
at a duck or two. The ease and quickness of transporta- 
tion of the automobile, and the pleasure derived from its 
use, has, as it were, developed thousands of new hunters, 
who under conditions of ten years ago would be indulging 
in some other less strenuous sport. 

THE TRUE SPORTSMAN. 

Sometimes have you not felt a little ashamed when you 
killed ten times as many ducks as you needed, and allowed 
most of them to spoil, or perhaps gave them away to those 
who did not appreciate them? Don't you know that the 
best part of the sport, after all, is to get out with Nature? 
To get out to your favorite slough or lake and study these 
beautiful birds; to watch their flight; to see the dance of 
the butterballs and to watch the bobbing of the heads of 
the wild things as they swim merrily to and fro? Don't 
you enjoy the beautiful hills and valleys around this your 
favorite duck pond? Have you not observed those beauti- 
ful sunrises and sunsets, and the changeable skies? 

The one who recognizes the existing conditions of the 
wild things, who pleads for their protection and for the 
hunter to be merciful and who goes hunting to study Na- 
ture and not solely to kill — Ah! he is the true sportsman! 



138 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The New England Ruffed Grouse. 



There is no game bird that flies anywhere on this conti- 
nent to be compared with the ruffed grouse — particularly 
the ruffed grouse of late Fall or early Winter. Of course, 
the ruffed grouse is a noble bird, no matter where you find 
him. But he suits the New England country well and that 
country suits him. He is in his element there, and the 
sportsman who brings him fairly to bag must be something 
more than a tyro. 

It matters not whether he be found in the hillside, in the 
big woods, in thick swampland or in the alder swales, he is 
always the same wary fellow — keen of sight and hearing, 
and swift of wing. To get him, the sportsman must be 
alert, else he will be away with a whirr! before the gun 
can be brought to bear on him. In spite of his great cun- 
ning, he will lie fairly well to the point of a good setter 
or pointer. But the bird dog which can fairly be regarded 
as a ruffed grouse dog must have a genius for his work. 
And this genius must be carefully cultivated and developed. 

The high-headed dog is desirable for hunting all manner 
of game birds, but for the ruffed grouse that style of hunt- 
ing is a necessity. The dog which looks under his feet for 
this bird will not find him. He may get a taste of the 
bird's trail, but before he comes within reach of the body 
scent, the bird will be whirring away at terrific speed. 

And what a prize the sportsman has, to be sure, when he 
kills one of these wary birds over a point ! There are more 
thrills in such a point and such a kill than are furnished by 
a dozen quails killed over points. — C. B. Whitford. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 139 

Wild-Fowl in a Storm On the Massachusetts Sea Coast. 



There swept o 'er lake and wood, the storm 's wild roar. — Rhymes of Stream and 

Forest. 



I wish I could adequately describe a scene which I wit- 
nessed on the old Pilgrim coast at Manomet one 5th of 
November. Flying gray clouds covered the sky. The wind 
was northeast, and increasing every hour. A few boats 
went out early but soon came in, as the sea was becoming 
dangerous. Low over the frothing ocean flew lines and 
lines of wild-fowl, scudding from the north before the 
blasts. They were in sight all the time. Before one flock 
had passed southward, several more were to be seen com- 
ing, at times six or eight flocks in sight at once. 

By 10 o'clock the rain began to beat spitefully on our 
faces as we stood on the bluff with awed spirits watching 
Nature in her passion. By noon the wind had reached 
hurricane force. Flocks of fowl were fairly hurled in over 
the rocks, many of them to be shot down by the "station" 
men and others, who stood ready. I made no effort to 
estimate the number of that day's flight. Thousands upon 
thousands of ducks were there, and of all kinds. The surf 
thundered in upon the rocks, and clouds of spray flew up 
over the top of the bluff. 

In the morning when I opened the door and stepped 
out, a blast struck me that made me gasp for breath and 
cling to the railing. Blinded with the stinging sleet, I 
could not see whether fowl were flying or not. A neigh- 
boring barn had disappeared, lying in fragments on the 
rocks around the Point. Everything was white with snow. 
Winter had come upon land, ocean and wild-fowl. — From 
"Among the Water-Fowl** by Herbert K. Job. 



140 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Mallard Shooting at Coke's Bayou. 



Coke's Bayou is a beautiful place. It is the sheet of 
water lying between Au Sable Island and the south bank 
of the Illinois River. It is not properly a bayou. I have 
shot ducks, geese and quail on the island. There are many 
small islands between the large island and the shore. 

I was shooting mallards near the lower end of Au Sable 
Island in late November and it was a bitter cold day and 
late in the afternoon began to freeze rapidly. 

My decoys were becoming small cakes of coated ice, but 
as the birds were coming fast I disliked to leave such fine 
sport. No preliminary circles by the large flocks of mal- 
lards. As soon as they sighted the decoys they set their 
wings and came right in against the strong wind. Then it 
was up to me to do the rest. I killed twenty-seven mal- 
lards in a few hours. 

When it was nearly night I managed to get my decoys up 
and started down between the island and shore for home. 

When I reached the extreme lower end of the island (this 
is one of the largest islands on the upper Illinois) I then 
discovered the ice extended in a solid field from the island 
to the shore and I was cut off from getting into the main 
channel of the river. Time was valuable if I was to get 
home at all. 

Rowing back a short distance, I pulled my boat out on 
the island, dragged it across the island to the main river 
channel where it was still open and started down the river 
six miles for home. 

I made it all right, but an hour after I landed my boat 
after the six-mile row the river channel was closed entirely. 



The shadows lengthen and he daylight fades. 

























■Sffi 


i&^^XisS^'' "'* 




n 




* \- - *«J 


- 


1 


i 
i 

,,'1 

i 


ammU i *. Jl 



Coke's Bayou at Sundown (An Sable Island), on the Illinois River. 
Photo by W. M. Lyon, Chicago. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 141 

The Plumage of Wild-Fowl. 



The strength of the sun in his yellow feet, 
The purple of night asleep on his breast; 

The green of a thousand Junes on his crest, 

And across his wing Heaven 's own bar of blue. 

— A Day on the Yukon. 



There is a great variety of coloring of the feathers of 
the wild duck. Each species has some particular coloring 
that distinguishes it. And all have a patch of brilliant 
color on the secondary feathers of the wing with a narrow 
strip of white on each side of it. This is called the specu- 
lum. The blue-wing teal has a light-blue spot, the green- 
wing a green spot, the mallard a dark blue, the pintail a 
light brown, the gadwall a dark brown, and the wood duck 
a combination of several colors with beautiful iridescent 
feathers. For delicacy of coloring and exquisite tints the 
wood duck is the handsomest bird on this continent and 
when in full plumage worthy of comparison with many of 
the radiant tropical birds. 

Then the male bird of each species has a distinguishing 
color on its head and neck. The mallard drake has a beau- 
tiful velvety green, the pintail a rich chocolate brown, the 
redhead a light chestnut color and the canvasback a dark 
chestnut edged with black on the crown of his head. And 
always it is the male birds who have the most beautiful 
feathers. The female is most soberly clad. How different 
in the human family! There the female has all the fine 
feathers and want more. 

Certainly a flock of redheads are a glorious sight on a 
Spring morning with the reflections of the rising sun glis- 
tening on the handsome chestnut coloring of their heads! 



142 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Goldeneye, or Whistler. 



The goldeneye or whistler, as it is sometimes called, is 
one of the most cautious of all our wild ducks, and his 
sharp eyesight will detect the gunner hidden in a blind 
watching a stool of decoys when nearly any other species 
of ducks will come in without any preliminaries. It is 
extremely difficult to stalk them from the bank of a river or 
lake, also, as some of the flock are continually on guard. 

The goldeneye is extremely tenacious of life and it re- 
quires hard hitting to secure them. 

They are very hardy and I have known them to remain 
all Winter season after season on the lower Kankakee, 
frequenting several stretches of water that do not freeze. 

The whistling sound made by their wings in flight can 
be heard a considerable distance. The goldeneye usually 
nests in a hollow tree. 

The goldeneye frequents the sea coasts as well as inland 
waters, and is an expert diver, and often utilizes this skill 
in procuring mussels for food. 

While feeding largely on shell-fish, it also frequents the 
wild rice fields and fresh-water marshes near the coast. 
There is little danger of the goldeneye becoming extinct, 
in my opinion. They are too well fortified by Nature with 
caution, and are in general a cunning and wary bird. 

The goldeneye ranges throughout almost the entire United 
States, breeding throughout the northern portions of the 
North American Continent and in Winter migrating to the 
extreme Southern States, and sometimes even to Cuba. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 143 

With the Canvasbacks at Au Sable Lake. 



Somewhere the ripples on the water 
In silver patches rest 
Then slowly fade. 

— Rhymes of Stream and Forest. 



Several good-sized flocks of canvasbacks had been feed- 
ing undisturbed at one end of Au Sable Lake for a number 
of days and I had been watching them but had not mo- 
lested them as I awaiting the proper time for a "killing." 
I knew they would not leave unless some other hunter 
should get in there ahead of me. However, I was on the 
river every day and knew where the other hunters were 
shooting most of the time. Besides, it was hard and slow 
work getting in there with a boat, so I did not fear com- 
petition, and some of the other hunters did not have can- 
vasback decoys. 

Au Sable Lake lies in the Illinois River valley and is too 
far from the river to carry a boat over conveniently. The 
main body of the lake is about three-quarters of a mile 
long and is fed by springs at one end. At the other end 
of the lake there is an outlet by means of a small creek 
which winds its tortuous way through some small ponds 
and heavy timber to Au Sable Creek, a larger stream, 
which flows into the Illinois River. The navigation up 
this small creek is by no means easy, as there are logs 
lying across the channel at various points and the volume 
of water is not large. 

When I decided the time was ripe, I got an early start 
one November morning, with fifty canvasback decoys in my 



144 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

boat, and after a couple of hours of hard work succeeded 
in reaching the waters of the lake via this small creek. 
I drove the ducks away from where they were feeding 
without shooting at them and set out my decoys. Soon 
they began to return, and I had some excellent sport. 

During the afternoon I had an unusual experience. A 
flock of five canvasbacks came into the decoys directly to- 
wards me, as the wind was off shore, and as they were 
hovering over the decoys with their heads towards me and 
had slackened their speed and with outstretched feet 
were about to alight, I shot the first barrel of my Parker 
at them where they were slightly bunched together. At 
the report of the gun three of the grand birds fell. Taking 
aim at one of the survivors, just as I pulled the trigger 
the fifth bird came directly into line with the one I was 
aiming at and when I pulled the trigger both birds fell at 
the discharge of the second barrel. 

I can remember of killing four out of a flock of five 
ducks several times when they have came into the decoys, 
but this is the only time I can remember of killing an 
entire flock of five birds. I felt rather guilty afterwards. 

Altogether, I have found the nests and egges of nineteen 
species of duck and seen the young of one other. The 
breeding habits of wild ducks were absolutely unknown in 
Audubon's day, and even to the present little has appeared 
in books about them. — Herbert K. Job. 

The golden plover is a splendid little game bird. They 
are a bird of the prairies and also are fond of frequenting 
ploughed fields. Being very swift on the wing they afford 
excellent practice in wing shooting. The general coloring 
of the bird is dark grayish blue, mottled with gold spots. 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 145 

Crane Lake as a Game Refuge. 



Game refuges in the United States have been increased 
by the addition of Crane Lake, Illinois. It has been leased 
by the State of Illinois for a term of years, with the privi- 
lege of renewal. Marsh Island in the Gulf of Mexico, to 
which Mrs. Russell Sage has donated liberally, and the 
E. A. Mclhenny game sanctuary in Louisiana, have been 
the means of preservation of millions of bird life. One 
dollar expended in the direction of establishing sanctuaries 
and game refuges where, unmolested, game can breed and 
multiply in the manner adopted by nature for wild-fowl 
will prove more prolific of results than a hundred dollars 
expended in hand raised and home cultivated wild-fowl, 
which are thereby domesticated. Big Lake, Arkansas, once 
the home of the market hunter, has also been added to the 
list of game refuges by the Federal Government. 

Crane Lake is a body of water two and one-half miles 
long by one mile wide and Murry Howe says it it the 
greatest resort for wild-fowl in America of its size. Mr. 
Lawrence Alberts is in charge of the lake and stated that 
in his twenty-five years' experience with wild-fowl he had 
never seen such a body of birds as were centered on Crane 
Lake late last Fall. 

The aggregation of birds was a body at least one and 
one-half miles long and 200 to 600 yards wide. They came 
there from every section of the state to roost. Ninety per 
cent were mallards. In the morning they would go out to 
feed, returning from 3 to 6 p. m. by the millions. They fly 
very high on the flights. When directly over Crane Lake 
they seem to stop and sift from the air by the million. 
"It looks like a duck funnel" as they return to the bosom 
of Crane Lake. 



146 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Black Duck. 



The habitat of the black duck is generally confined to 
the Eastern States, being especially plentiful at Currituck 
Sound. It is not at all numerous in the Middle or Western 
States, and in some parts is called locally " black mal- 
lard," evidently not being known as a separate species. 
They associate with mallards to some extent in the Middle 
West and I have many times seen two or three black ducks 
in a large flock of mallards. 

The Florida black duck is a closely allied species, with 
similar habits, and is found in Florida and along the Gulf 
Coast. 

In its Eastern resorts the black duck is very wary, re- 
maining on the ocean during the day and only venturing 
to the inland ponds at night to feed. 

In the struggle of the survival of the fittest, the black 
duck has learned its lesson so well that it is still fairly 
numerous in localities where less wary birds have become 
greatly lessened in numbers. 

"The black duck is the woodcock of the water. Unlike 
other ducks, he towers when he leaves the decoys — when 
he takes wing in any instance. He springs at times twenty 
feet into the air with one flap of his wings. He is the 
greatest of all the wild-fowl game; the king of all the 
ducks. The wisest bird of them all. 

"They are best taken from a point near a favorite feed- 
ing creek when the tide is low late in the day or very early 
in the morning. 

"Although fond of salt water, the black duck is a point, 
creek, and pond duck." — The Wild-Fowlers. 



Efl 




DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 147 

Wild-Fowl at Reelfoot Lake, Tennessee. 



Upon our approach to Reelfoot Lake we could see great 
blankets of ducks spreading themselves across the sky, 
shutting out the light and filling the air with the roar of 
their myriad wings. Many of the flocks were headed for 
the lowlands of the Mississippi, but others were dropping 
into the Great Stopping Place between the Great Lakes 
and the gulf, our volcanic lake. Who knows but that the 
Keeper and Preserver of all game did not wrinkle up this 
little place upon the face of Nature in order to create a 
half-way resting place for His feathered children? 

Pretty soon down they came! Out of the sky by the 
hundreds they swept, fine big mallards. 

As we returned to camp our guide glanced sidewise up 
at the moon and said: "Boys, we ain't goin' to git no 
ducks termorrer!" And we didn't. According to the usual 
protective instincts of all wild things, the wild ducks of 
Reelfoot Lake will feed upon the wild celery and the rich 
trapanatans at night if the moon is shining and will rest 
in the daytime. During this period Mr. Hunter will look 
in vain for the sign of a wing. He may find the spectacled 
coot standing idly about in the shallows and looking wise, 
but that's all. The ducks are rafted out on the lake and 
on the Mississippi. 

As we looked back into that queer volcanic graveyard, 
that city of the dead trees, we hoped that this great Stop- 
ping Place for the birds, made in a moment's thought by 
the Creator, might not prove a shut-in 1 sepulchre for the 
migratory fowl, the movements of which are the strangest 
phenomena of all the clock-like automaton of Nature. Good 
sportsmen will not make it so. — Robert Lindsay Mason. 



148 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

The Philosophy of Duck Hunting. 



The brilliant mallard, and the teal, 
With eye of light, and wing of steel; 
All gather in the Autumn day, 
To haunt the waters of the bay. 

— Isaac McLellan. 



BY EDMUND J. SAWYER. 



Lest the reader infer a tenderfoot want of sympathy, not 
to say a little positive preaching, from an article on duck 
hunting in which little is said of shooting, the writer deems 
it proper to explain at the start that he is a shooter by 
instinct and training. As such he is well aware that the 
peculiar joy of the successful shooter is beyond his poor 
power to add or detract, even if it would, says Edmund 
J. Sawyer in Field and Stream. 

Anyway, why does one keep on going after ducks'? Surely 
it is seldom for the food value of the game shot. Economy, 
time-saving, availability, horse sense, safety of life and limb, 
an ordinary liking for a dry skin — all would clearly point 
to choice cuts at the market if it were a question of food. 

Next in persuasive power to the actual shooting, if not 
indeed before it, must undoubtedly be reckoned the excite- 
ment of the hunt, properly so called; the joy of alert pre- 
paredness; the uncertainty of what will happen next, the 
play of the fancy as to its possibilities; the hundred and 
one little false alarms, as when a muskrat splashes some- 
where out of sight *among the reeds, or the gun is momen- 
tarily leveled at a scared bittern mistaken for a duck, or a 




f \ 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 149 

bird destined to prove only a kingfisher, but looking for 
all the world like a teal, conies straight for your decoys. 
The love of being fooled! Does that explain all the rest? 
A little, ever so little, of the fleshpots of Egypt (your wife 
will tellyou Egypt is right), and considerable of the tin- 
horn excitement of the circus! Is that duck hunting? Does 
such a toy magnet draw the same hunter day after day, 
season after season, to fields where he bags only an occa- 
sional bird? 

If that were the case, what a libel on nature! What an 
unanswerable argument as against the pleas of the teeming- 
ranks of nature-lovers — that a vast army of intelligent men 
goes every Fall into the "haunts of nature," even though 
bent on shooting, and looks, on many of the most glorious 
of nature's charms and beauties, but looks unaffected, per- 
haps unseeing. But, enough; your duck hunter is none 
the less a nature-lover for being, as it may happen, himself 
unconscious of the fact. 

Sunrise over the flats; the changing surface of the 
waters; the weather signs; the interesting ways of "coot 
and hern," of hell-diver and gull, muskrat and mink, of 
wild-fowl on the wing, whether in massed bunches or shift- 
ing files or lonely stragglers — all so apt to be hopelessly 
out of range!— these and such as these are things close to 
the heart of every hunter. The very elusiveness of ducks 
adds its particular charm to their pursuit. Tantalizing f 
Yes; to see with what admirable wisdom they will avoid 
an ambush; with what uncanny judgment flock after flock 
will pass just out of range beyond the point of land on 
which you lie concealed. Yet, I repeat, we do seem to like 
to be fooled. 



150 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

Who would not like to peer cautiously through the bushes 
at a wood duck, a mallard, or, say, a green-wing drake 
swimming there a boat length or two away! What hunter 
would not walk far for such a sight? But such things come 
too far between to explain our enthusiasm at mention of 
wild ducks. What suggestiveness is conveyed when some- 
one casually remarks that he has seen a flock of ducks! 
What hundreds of scenes, what thrills of excitement have 
gone to make up the witchery of that term! After all, is 
it not the quite familiar spectacle of flying "string" or 
straggler, snaky necks, heads outstretched and gamy flight 
which wears the best? If you or I could look but once on 
wild ducks, should we choose wood ducks at arm's length 
among water-lilies, and not rather a flock of black ducks 
which should come in, hesitate, take alarm and veer off 
and away, just out of gun range, or even one solitary, high- 
flying mallard ' ' 'midst falling dew, while glow the heavens 
with the last steps of day"? Where should we get the 
truest conception of what a wild duck really is? 

Not that a close view necessarily dispels that "gamy" 
look. In this connection I recall a certain meeting with 
black ducks. My boat had been pushed into the flags at 
the edge of a narrow, marshy stream. Here I waited to 
see what I might see. In half an hour a black duck swam 
into view, two others following so close at his tail they 
nearly bumped into him as, seeing me there some 15 feet 
distant, he stopped abruptly in midstream. What a picture 
of surprise they were ! How wild they looked ! With the 
sinuous movements of their snaky necks and heads they 
were strong evidence for the reptilian origin of birds. 
Only for an instant were they nonplussed; the next they 



DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 151 

were splashing up and away as if a firecracker had burst 
an inch behind them. 

It is indeed a red-letter day when you come on a bunch 
of ducks at close range, surprising yourself but not them. 
You hear their guarded quacking, the splash as one darts 
playfully after another, the beating of his wings as another 
rises on his tail like a tame goose in a barnyard. They 
are so natural about it all, so apparently unconscious of 
being seen. And yet, on second look, there is still that 
indescribable look of wildness, that something which some- 
how dampens any ambition to put salt on their tails. Ah! 
what watchfulness, after all, can be traced in their very 
play! Tame! Not with that accusing quiet. You try to 
feel that you have outgeneraled them, but after a little 
further observation you are sure to feel the triumph grow- 
ing small. Finally, splash, splash, quack, quack — they saw 
you. But how? Anyway, there they go. And see that 
last pair — first you knew of them; they must have been 
quietly feeding behind some tuft of grass. But, then, you 
know, it's always that way; two or three that you had 
overlooked manage to resurrect themselves and get up from 
somewhere; it's a little way they have. Funny thing, this 
outwitting wild ducks. 

What is there about that subtle quality of wildness in 
these birds that it should lay such a powerful hold on us? 
Why such music in the first approaching whistle of their 
wings? Why such a knell as it grows faint again in the 
distance? Mark! — a flock! Are they coming? Going? Have 
they seen us? Will they aee us? Will they be bunched at 
this point? Will they pass? How far away? When must 
thev take alarm? But are they coming? Yes; no — yes, 



152 DUCK SHOOTING AND HUNTING SKETCHES. 

yes! Now, what may yet change their course? Why, I 
repeat, this matter-of-life-and-death about it all? Why do 
our eyes follow these flocks as a cat's the movements of a 
canary? There! Does it all hark back? Here is a subject 
for Jack London. The evolutionists are now telling us that 
we have had many and narrow escapes; that* the path by 
which we at last arrived was indeed long, and thickly beset 
with all manner of thorns and snares not a few, in so much 
that our said arrival has been, as it were, by the skin of 
our teeth. 

While we are all more or less aware of the various 
charms of these scenes, do we all and always truly appre- 
ciate the really exceptional elements of beauty which these 
pictures contain? Bays, ponds, marshy lakes, sluggish 
streams dotted with blue pickerel weed, white water-lilies 
and waxy arrowhead, and overgrowth with pondweed, water 
crowfoot, and eel-grass — the haunts of pintail, shoveler and 
wood duck. How these things would have appealed to a 
people like the Japanese ! What a wealth of material for 
screens and panels, as compared with the overworked Man- 
darin duck and iris? This brings us to a point where we 
might well forget our gun; where, indeed, we should doubt- 
less forget it were it not forever getting in the way. 

One is apt to get but a distorted view even of the birds 
themselves over the barrels of a gun; tracery of willow 
and alder, wild rice and marsh grass, the ample reaches of 
lake or marsh and expanse of sky — is usually a virtual dead 
loss. The remote blue sky and the ever-changing clouds 
are terribly gun-shy and keener, than a crow to scent your 
powder and detect your fell designs, though you yourself 
would scarcely realize it — until you try leaving your gun 
at home. 



"MY HUNTING GROUNDS. 




"Moonlight on Lake Butte des Morts, Wisconsin." 

A real moonlight picture made at 2 A. M. Negative given 

15 minutes' exposure. Courtesy of Clyds R. Terrell. 



a 

rr 



